


Darkness and Lightning

by Cyberra, gatekat



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bonding, Character Death, Crossover, Knights of Light, M/M, Mechpreg, Prostitution, Rape, Spark Sex, Sparklings, Sticky Sex, mirrorverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-11
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 06:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 85,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/pseuds/Cyberra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knights of Light Mirrorverse (not Shattered Glass).<br/>Drift crash lands on a desert planet with a major surprise hidden under it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crash Landing in Shadows

The proverbial thunderstorm was raging over Wing's helm as the dark jet stormed out of the Citadel, other Knights sidestepping out of his way. Flaring golden optics didn't even acknowledge their presence. The other Knights watched as Wing stormed away, wondering just what had happened this time.

Most of the Citadel knew that Wing and his creator, Dai Atlas, had gotten into another of their infamous screaming matches, though about what was a little less clear. Dai Atlas was a big mech with a large vocalizer to match, so he could be heard bellowing for quite a distance, though the words had been unintelligible. Maybe it had something to do with Wing's jaunts to the surface.

Wing stormed up into the higher levels of the Citadel, then paused. Instead of going to sulk in his quarters, he was feeling a clear and growing urge to be out of the city cavern, in the open air of the surface world. That would show Dai Atlas. Turning on his heel, not bothering to try and question just why he needed to be outside so badly, the dark jet headed for the surface access tunnels.

The sand and black, star filled sky spread out before him the moment he opened the door. It eased something deep inside his spark to just see the open sky, to have nothing over his helm and nothing to catch his wings.

Wing was a flicker of shadow as he left the tunnel, darting away just in case anyone might have followed him. No one ever had, yet, but still. Dai Atlas had been furious enough to set one of the other Knights to watching him. Thorn in particular was entirely too good at following him unnoticed and finding him no matter where he went.

Once he was sure he was alone, Wing came out into the open, his dark armor gleaming under the moonlight. Flaring open his slender wings, he hummed with pleasure as the breeze stroked over the sensitive flight panels, whispering into the joints and seams. After a moment to enjoy the sensation, he revved his nacelles, lifting away from the sand in a swirl of particles and took off into the endless expanse that was his alone.

No one else came up here. No one else _dared_ come up here. The entire world was his; the only jet that still _flew_ as their kind was meant to.

Up here he was free. Free of his creator's restrictions, free of the oppressive atmosphere of being trapped in a cave underground. Up here he was the master of his world. There was nothing to hold him back.

This time, there was something different. He was outside, in the free, open air, but still the urge to be out had only increased. Now it was strong enough for him to really notice and wonder about.

Paying attention, he allowed the urge to guide him upwards. Within a klik he spotted something bright and hot coming down fast, but far too slow to be a meteor.

Wing watched the fireball for a long moment. Then his curiosity got the better of him and he turned in its direction, flying toward where he calculated it would land. He dropped lower to the sand, using the high dunes and the jagged rock formations to stay out of sight while tracking the fireball. Some part of him wondered why it was so important to be tracking this falling object, but the bulk of him was intent on reaching the landing site.

The impact was hard, digging a long, deep trench in the sand and melting much of it to molten glass that quickly cooled around a single mecha long range shuttle.

Wing paused for a brief moment, then flew as close as he dared and landed. On foot, he eased closer, under the cover of the dunes and the night, keeping to the shadows. Peering around a convenient chunk of sand-and-wind-scoured rock, he gazed at the shuttle, wondering who or what might be inside.

On the burned surface was a faction insignia. Autobot, if he read the scared and scorched outline. The color was long gone.

As he scrutinized the markings, such as were left, the creak of a hatch being forced open against half welded hinges and damaged controls demanded his attention.

Wing knew little of the factions most of Cybertron had split into, but he knew enough to know that the Autobots were not the better of the two.

Hearing the creak of the hatch, Wing ducked back into the shadows, letting his dark armor blend into the darkness, letting it hide him. Not taking his optics off the ship, he waited to see who or what would emerge.

Black hands were visible first, then the soft glow of pale blue optics and a bit of gleaming white plating. When the hatch crashed to the glassy sand a _lovely_ white mech that looked like he was Redline's work became fully visible.

That didn't hold Wing's attention long though. The classic short swords of a Knight of Shadows were at the newcomer's sides, the hilt of a white Great Sword and its blue gem were visible over his shoulder, and bright red Autobot insignia marred each shoulder.

Slender ebony wings flared out in surprise. Golden optics widened. This mech, a Knight? But he was marked as an Autobot...

And he was _gorgeous_. The white mech was very attractive, slightly shorter than Wing was, covered in sleek and shining white, the spines of audial finials jutting up from his heavy helm, crowned by a white chevron centered by gold that matched Wing's optics.

Despite himself, the dark jet let out a soft purr, easing slightly closer but remaining in the shadows.

The stranger took in his environment as a seasoned warrior before moving away from his wreck of a ship and into the shadows of the mountains, working his way purposefully, though Wing knew the mech wasn't going anywhere. There was nothing, no where to _go_ to that way.

Wing paced the white mech, slipping from shadow to shadow, staying in the darkness, but where he could watch the other mech. His golden gaze roved over the spaulders, the back armor, those powerful dark hands and the graceful yet purposeful way the white mech moved. Wing's glossa flicked over his lower lip plate as he watched, flowing into yet another hiding spot.

When he turned his gaze on the stranger he found ice blue optics meeting his quite directly, the white mech stopped and in a loose defensive posture that was _definitely_ that of a seasoned Knight.

Wing paused, tilting his helm to the side. A small smile curved his lips as he realized that he had indeed been spotted. Shifting away from his piece of cover, he moved out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

Ice blue optics took him in much as he'd taken the stranger in. A sweep over plating, zeroing in on the Great Sword visible over his helm, drifting down to the short swords, then another sweep over plating as the stranger took a step forward.

"Who are you?" the stranger demanded, his voice rough and only just kept from trembling.

The dark jet cocked his helm slightly. "My designation is Wing," he answered, staying where he was. Golden optics slid down the white frame again before lifting back to pale blue. "And who might you be?"

"Wing is dead," the stranger growled instead, his frame trembling slightly as hands slid down to short swords. "Who are you?"

The dark jet looked down at himself, lifting one hand to run it over his chestplate before looking back to the white mech. "Last time I checked, I was very much alive." He fluttered dark wings before folding them neatly to his back. "I am Wing."

Ice blue optics narrowed before the stranger stalked forward smoothly, a Knight's grace that didn't come naturally as it did to Wing. One hand remained on his short sword's hilt, but there was no anticipation to draw it.

Wing stayed where he was, watching the white mech. He would move if he had to, confident he could defend himself against the white stranger. His hands rested on his hips, close enough to the hilts of his plasma swords to draw them if he had to but otherwise just adopting a casual, relaxed pose.

At four paces he felt the stranger's field reach out for him, questioning, testing, seeking both the familiar and the alien. The flare of recognition was scorching, full of desire and need that completely bypassed all higher processor functions.

Wing flared his field in response, seeking to find out as much as he could about the white grounder. Feeling the desire and the need, he smiled teasingly, fluttering his wings playfully, taking a slight step back.

"You still haven't given me your designation," he purred at the white mech, tilting his helm to the other side.

"Drift," came the answer as the stranger drew in a deep draught of air to help cool rapidly heating systems. He took two steps forward, closing the distance between them. His field reached deeper, trying to entice the black mech closer.

"Drift," the dark jet repeated, purring the designation. He skipped backward again, fluttering his wings teasingly. Golden optics watched the white mech as he curved his body enticingly, drawing the white mech after him.

He watched Drift recognize the tactic, but go along with it as he closed the distance again, this time to a bare two paces. He didn't stop at sword range either, trying to close even more. His field gave no doubt as to what he wanted, what he _intended_ , and that he'd willingly _take_ if it wasn't offered.

Wing laughed, the sound as much purr as laugh. His dark wings flared out to their full span, fluttering and wiggling, as the dark jet again retreated. He curved his frame, showing off, golden optics giving the white mech a coy, come-hither type look.

The deep rumble that escaped Drift next was a warning sound, something that sent most enemies scurrying away and most allies to quick compliance to his orders. It was one of the things Deadlock had that Drift maintained.

Optics locked on black plating and Drift moved, darting forward to capture the playful creature that was too similar to his Wing, even if it wasn't.

Wing caught the white mech's arms, spinning on his heel and pulling Drift down. Within a few seconds Drift was on his back on the sand, the dark jet straddling his hips. The dark jet had a playful yet triumphant grin on his face, his optics fixing on pale blue.

White hips ground up against black while black hands reached for spread black wings. The field entwined with Wing's was full of familiarity, desire built on _knowing_ and a long absence.

Wing's field was tinged with curiosity, wondering how this white mech, whom he'd never seen before, seemed to know him. Still, the dark jet would never turn down that desire. He ground his hips against Drift's, his own black hands gliding down Drift's arms to his chest as his spread wings pressed into those stroking hands. A purr rose from Wing's throat as he was pulled down into a kiss that was as need-filled as Drift's field was full of _desire-love-devotion_ that set off all of Wing's kinks at once just thinking about what he could get such a mech to do.

Drift's fingers knew exactly what to do to make him wriggle and moan, but he didn't miss the snap and slide of an interface panel sliding open and the hiss of a spike pressurizing between them.

The next purr was as much at the ideas presenting themselves to him as it was at the touches. His wings flared and stretched into the touches, the dark body writhing under Drift's skilled hands.

Hearing the sound of the white mech's spike pressurizing, Wing laughed. He wriggled his hips, his valve cover opening invitingly. There was no hesitation as Drift plunged into him, filling and stretching him in such a delicious way. Whoever this Drift was, he knew _just_ how to move to make Wing keen.

Thrusts were deep and hard, the hands on his wing-joints digging in just right. The moans of pleasure, the rich flow of it in their mingled fields was wonderfully intense.

"My Wing," Drift groaned into a fevered kiss.

Wing writhed against him, leaning into those wonderful hands, his rips rocking in time to Drift's thrusts. His own hands skittered across white armor, exploring, seeking out the places to touch that would get the best reactions from the white grounder. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, this mech had met another mecha with Wing's designation and frame before. How, he didn't much care right at the moment.

One way or another, he was going to have this white mech, no matter what anyone else thought. Especially his creators. Drift was _his_.

"Mine," the dark jet breathed. "Driiiiiiiiift!"

Hot transfluid flooded his valve as the crackle of a hard overload crashed against his field and frame from the grounder under him. Even without conscious control, Drift's frame moved perfectly to suit Wing and drive his pleasure higher.

Wing's back arched, his helm thrown back, digging his fingers into the seams of Drift's sides. Energy crackled along his frame as his valve tightened around Drift's spike, milking it of every drop of transfluid. The dark jet's keen of overload was nearly a shriek, breaking into static at the end. He was only dimly aware of being rolled to his back so the white grounder was on top of him. He only cared that the pounding didn't stop and the new angle provided a whole new set of stimulations.

Dark wings splayed out against the pale sand, Wing's hands coming up to stroke over Drift's sides and around to his back, exploring his plating. Dark thighs wrapped around white hips, golden optics locking onto ice blue. One dark hand slid up to experimentally fondle the tempting spires of Drift's audial finials. They pressed into his hands, Drift's silent snarl one of exquisite pleasure as he drove himself and his lover to another peak before the first had even fully settled.

With a fierce kiss he plundered this dark Wing's mouth as they rode out the overload. His hips never faltered in their thrusts as he shifted to rub that wonderful valve, that feeling of _home_ , in new ways.

"Mine," he growled, possessive and giving all at once. "All of you. Mine."

Wing returned the kiss, purring into it, the sound becoming a moan. Dark-armored arms wrapped around the gleaming white frame, holding him close.

"And you're _mine_ ," he purred in response, wriggling against Drift.

"Yes. Always," came the answer, a nuzzle and licking nips on Wing's neck as he sought to drive them to another peak. He didn't care how this was happening. He didn't care if he'd finally lost his mind and this was all in his helm. All he cared was that he had Wing back, and Wing was welcoming him back.

Wing leaned his helm back, his optics flicking off, hands working their way up to white spaulders. Nimble fingers slid into seams to tug and stroke at the wiring underneath, carefully working a sensor node between thumb and forefinger.

He made up his mind that he _was_ going to bring Drift back to the city. The white mech would make a fine addition, either as a Knight of Shadows, or as Wing's own personal pet. At this point, he didn't care which, as long as Drift was his.

* * *

Some time after the two mechs had finally passed out, Wing stirred on the sand, onlining his optics and looking around. The white mech, Drift, lay sprawled on the sand beside him, and the far-off horizon was just beginning to show the first hints of false dawn. It was time for him to head back to the city.

The dark jet picked himself up, indulging in a long stretch, flaring wings and pinions and armor, shaking off the sand. He watched Drift for a moment, a possessive smile crossing his features, then knelt down to lift the slightly shorter but noticeably heavier frame into his arms. Warming up his nacelles, Wing lifted off with the white mech held firmly against his chest, heading for the nearest of the hidden city's tunnels.

He had to put Drift down only once, to close and lock the doors behind him. Finding it easier to fly rather than walk while carrying the grounder, the dark jet flew down the steps, emerging into the cavern and making a beeline for his balcony.

He knew he was spotted, and a sleek black form darted out after him. Faint glowing red lines and golden wings marked him as Thorn.

"What _have_ you found this time?" the taller, more slender mech cooed as he caught up near Wing's quarters.

"He's _mine_ ," Wing growled at the other jet, landing on his balcony. Dark wings bristled at Thorn, warning him to keep his hands off. Heading inside, Wing laid the white grounder on the berth, running a possessive hand over the white helm.

"He's pretty, but there is no way he's going to let you keep him," Thorn cooed. "But maybe both of us together can convince him we can keep a pet out of trouble."

" _Mine_ ," Wing repeated. His wings flicked smugly. "Not sure where he came from, but he knew a mech with my frame before... Knows just where to touch, just the right amount of pressure, and just where to hit." A shiver of remembered pleasure ran through the dark jet's frame.

"And that reduces the appeal of a threesome?" Thorn trilled, sliding up against Wing's back and nuzzling him. "You've shared before."

Wing's plating actually bristled. "This one is _all mine_ ," he all but hissed back at Thorn. "I will not share Drift. Find your own pet."

"You know we aren't allowed to have pets anymore," Thorn chuckled and backed off a bit. "Not since that last one killed herself by diving off your balcony."

"This one won't," Wing informed the other jet confidently. He continued to stroke the white helm, admiring the design and the smooth lines. "I don't care what Dai Atlas thinks. I'm keeping Drift."

"Does he know he's a pet yet?" A new voice spoke with the sound of a jet landing. While it was slightly higher in pitch, it was far more disturbing to the average mech.

Wing looked over at the ultra-dark maroon femme Knight as she entered his quarters. "Not yet. He'll find out, though. Eventually." Golden optics glowed.

She chuckled. "So who's going to guard him while you 'convince' our lord and master to let you keep him?"

"Someone who knows to keep their hands to themselves," was the reply with a sharp look at Thorn. "He's _mine_ , and I'm not sharing."

That raised an optic ridge over ice blue optics. "Well, that excludes Thorn," she chuckled darkly and glided over to take a closer look at the recharging mech. "What's so special about this one?"

"He apparently knew someone with our frame type before... He knows just where and how to touch." Dark wings fluttered against his back. "And he seemed to know someone who shared my designation before... There was both a lot of desire and devotion in his field. I look forward to training this Drift." There was anticipation in every line of him.

She chuckled darkly. "This'll be fun. I'll watch him when he needs watching, if you do my chores those orns."

Wing grinned. "Sounds fair enough." He ruffled his wings, his nacelle pinions flaring and then settling again. "So, have the high and mighty found out yet?"

"Do you hear bellowing?" She laughed outright. "I give it a breem, tops, since _we_ know you're back."

The dark jet snorted. "Point." Sliding onto the berth, he lounged next to the white mech, admiring his new pet.

"You're not going to get him, you know," Marwir smirked at Thorn, earning a dark glare from ruby optics. "By the time Wing either trains him or he bolts, he's going to know that you're even harder on your pets than Wing is."

Wing snorted. "Thorn, don't you have chores to do or someone else to annoy? Shoo." He waved a hand at the taller mech, spreading a wing possessively over Drift.

"But you're fun to annoy," the black mech smirked even as he walked to the balcony and took off.

"So how'd you find this one?" Marwir asked, the cant of her wings curious. "I'm quite sure we don't have any Autobots."

"Something drew me out, something more than the need to fly and defy my creators. Whatever it was, it drew me to a crashing single-mech ship. He was inside." Dark fingers traced lightly over white armor.

The smile that crossed her features was one of pure, joyful malice. "So not only is he clueless about the city and rules, but he has no way to leave."

Wing made a thoughtful hum. "He bears a Great Sword and two short swords, and he moved like a Knight. This is going to be interesting. And no, he can't leave. Whatever drew me to him in the first place will not let him hide from me."

"He must have been trained by one of those who left us," she shrugged. "A few Great Swords and knowledge how to use them did remain behind, despite our best efforts. It might be easier to keep him if you present him as a lost Knight and not the pet you intend him to be."

Dark nacelles lifted in a shrug. "He seemed to know me... insisted I was dead. Not sure what to make of that. But he seemed very happy to see me." Wing grinned. "Training him is going to be an interesting experience. I look forward to it."

"So am I," she rumbled in anticipation.

"WING!" The bellow shook the very Citadel and initiated Drift's boot cycle.

Wing jumped, then sighed and pushed off the berth. "Sounds like Dai Atlas has finally heard..." He walked to the balcony, looking over at Marwir. "Now the fun part begins..." There was a distinctly sarcastic note in his voice. Then he pushed off the balcony, disappearing from sight.

Marwir watched him disappear, then settled in to keep Drift put when he finished booting. Privately, she was amused that Wing had managed to wear him out so completely that he booted this slowly.

* * *

In the central courtyard of the Citadel of the Knights of Shadow the imposing giant of Master Dai Atlas stood, his wings spread fully and his plating nearly vibrating as he thought about what his surviving creation had done.

It was beyond unacceptable.

In the shadows his black plated mate stood, an amused smirk on his face as they watched their shadow-colored creation fly towards them.

Wing darted down toward them, circling once before landing right in front of Dai Atlas. Straightening his spinal strut and letting his wings flare partway out, he met his creator's red gaze, though he made sure he'd be just out of swatting distance. He'd gotten enough dents from his creator when the larger mech was pissed off, and didn't need any more.

"You brought an outsider here," the snarl was the barely controlled kind when Dai Atlas was so far past furious there were no words to describe his state of lucid insanity.

"He bears a Great Sword and a Knight's weapons," Wing pointed out, inching backward warily. 

"Are you suggesting he might be a lost Knight?" Axe's voice was more controlled than his mate's. Narrowed blue optics regarded the smaller mech.

"I'm not sure." Wing looked from one to the other. "Something led me to him."

Deep blue and black plating rattled as ruby optics narrowed on Wing. "Led you to him." Dai Atlas repeated. "Which Great Sword does he bear?"

The dark jet rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't think to ask... And yes. Something led me to him. Something drew my spark to his. I felt it even before I reached the surface."

"Where is his ship?" Axe asked, focused more on the practical side than the fury of being rebelled against in such an unforgivable way.

"Wrecked in the sand on the surface," Wing replied promptly, giving a databurst on the coordinates. "It was a hard crash. I doubt it can be salvaged or will ever fly again."

"Still worth the metal to drag back," Axe said, still in the shadows.

"Now," Dai Atlas growled, ruby optics locked on his rebellious creation. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't execute you _both_."

"Because I'm your creation and you put a lot of work into raising me?" Wing eased backward another step. "I will keep Drift in line. He would make a fine pet, if not a Knight."

"Then you vouch for him?" Dai Atlas rumbled, his expression even more serious.

The smaller dark jet nodded. He _wanted_ Drift for his own. Preferably as his pet, but as another Knight would work, too.

"Who's watching him?"

"Marwir," Wing answered. "He's a grounder, not a flier, and the door to my quarters is locked." Slender dark wings twitched, then slowly folded against his back plating again.

"Good," Dai Atlas rumbled, then grabbed for Wing's neck. " _You_ have a serious penance to face."

Wing squawked, reflexively flailing for balance and failing. He had been out of reach, but he'd also forgotten how fast Dai Atlas could move. Letting his limbs go limp, Wing submitted to being hauled inside by the scruff of his neck. This was going to hurt...

* * *

It was some time later when Wing returned to his quarters, fresh out of the repair bay. As expected, it had been a harsh penance, one of the worst he had ever endured. Gold optics brightened upon seeing Drift's white frame, the dark jet perking up. He walked in, looking over at the dark maroon frame of Marwir.

"I'm back, and in one piece. You can go now, Marwir." Wing nodded to the femme Knight.

"You owe me big time," she huffed before walking towards the balcony.

"Nine orns," Drift's voice actually shook lightly, his expression clear that he had at least some idea of the cause as he stood and nearly rushed Wing to hold him close. His field was full of regret, frustration and relief so intense it hurt. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back at all."

The dark jet purred as he nuzzled into white armor, relishing the way Drift quickly relaxed and soothed at his simple contact. "That was one of the worse penances I've had to go through, but it was very worth it." He curled himself into Drift's embrace, deciding he could very quickly get used to this. Whoever Drift had known before had done seventy percent of the work in training him. The hardest parts were already solid in Drift's processor.

"You're back, that's what matters," Drift whispered, nudging Wing's face up to kiss him, fierce and needy. "Missed you so much."

"Missed you, too," the dark jet chirred, returning the kiss with equal heat. Humming, Wing rubbed his cheek armor against Drift's, dimming his optics with a contented x-vent.

Training this white mech, it seemed, would entail quite a bit of expanding on what was already there. Maybe a bit of behavior modification. There was a good chance it would take a while, but the rewards would be worth it.

Drift tugged him to follow as he stepped backwards, towards the berth, his intent open and obvious.

Wing followed eagerly, allowing himself to be led. This time. Half-lidded golden optics watched Drift, dark wings flaring open with anticipation, his pinions rising from their lowered position. His mouth was claimed once more, the passion, adoration and desire to pleasure rising with each nanoklik. Black hands found his wing joints and dug into them as a glossa invaded and explored his mouth.

Wing arched into those hands, his own sliding across white armor, determined to map out every inch of his new pet's frame. His glossa stroked against Drift's, engaging in a brief dance of dominance before surrendering, flicking out to explore the white grounder's mouth in turn. The dark jet leaned into Drift, pushing him down onto the berth, flowing onto the berth after him.

"Missed you," Drift gasped when their mouths briefly parted. Everything in him was willing submission, wanting this more than he wanted answers or even to get back to the war. His very spark settled, joyful and at _peace_ whenever Wing, or whatever this mech was, was nearby. Any touch was blissful, going right through him to ease all his pain, loneliness and grief.

He would give anything just to keep that feeling of contentment in his existence.

"Missed you, too." The dark jet's voice dropped to a sultry purr, his hands stroking over white armor, down Drift's sides to the dark plating of his waist. The tips of his fingers slid into a seam, tugging lightly at the underlying circuitry, then stroking over the circuits and sensor nodes to distract the white mech from the slight sting. He pressed himself against Drift, his engines purring.

The resulting moan was only of pleasure, of welcoming the contact, rough and gentle. Drift's hands worked down Wing's back, focusing on the edge between Great Sword and mech.

Dark wings shivered as Wing let out a low moan. It wasn't often that he was touched there. He tugged gently at Drift's circuits again, finding and stroking another sensor cluster. The fingers of his other hand slid down and under one white hip sheath, flirting with the connection point. Drift all but bucked into that touch, his helm thrown back as a low, pleasure-rich moan filled the space.

Behind his helm, the red-orange gem in Challenger of Ways' hilt flared slightly, reacting to the brush of Drift's fingers, the flare subsiding to a faint glow as it accepted the stranger's touch.

Without looking, not even going by touch, but memory, Drift's hand slid up the blade, smooth and easy, to caress the gem. "Which one?"

"Challenger of Ways," Wing purred in response. "And yours?" He slid his hand back up Drift's side to reach around and brush his fingers over the hilt of the white mech's Great Sword, causing the blue gem to glow brightly. "Which Sword is it you bear?"

"Too Pure For This World," Drift gasped out at the charge that passed between him and his Great Sword. "It was Wing's, until he fell."

The dark jet made a mental note to find out more about this other Wing. Right now, though, he was more interested in the pleasure. Leaning down, he nipped at the white mech's jawline, making his way down to Drift's neck. Slender wings partially folded, then unfurled again, as Wing shifted to grind his hips against Drift's, optics glowing playfully.

Drift spread his knees as his valve cover slid open. The _trust_ reverberating through his frame and field clued Wing into the fact that the offering was _special_ , something Drift granted very few without a hard fight.

Wing made careful note of that fact. Chirring, the dark jet smiled to himself against Drift's neck, his spike cover snapping open to release his spike. One hand wandered down Drift's torso, fingertips flirting with the platelets surrounding the white grounder's valve before one digit slipped inside. It was met by slick walls and a soft moan as Drift rocked his hips up into the contact, memories of what Wing, the white Wing, did fueling the desire that was still strange for Drift.

A second digit slid into Drift's valve, lightly exploring the inside lining. Fingertips skimmed lightly over the sensor nodes, just enough to send shivers through Drift's sensor net. A dark thumb stroked over the platelets teasingly.

It was all enough to draw a needy whine from Drift as he rocked into the contact, silently pleading for _more_ , for the spike he knew to fill him.

Slowly, slowly, Wing withdrew his fingers, lifting his hand to lick the lubricant from the digits. The taste drew a purr from his vocalizer. Shifting his hips, he slid his spike into Drift's valve, continuing the smooth motion until it was completely sheathed, his hips pressed against Drift's. The white mech was _tight_ , even as slick as he was his valve lining pressed against Wing's spike on all sides.

The other Wing must have been a long time ago, and no lovers since.

At least none that were allowed this.

Drift trembled at the sensation of being _full_ , but instead of pulling away or checking his processors out, he hooked one leg over Wing's thigh and rocked his hips up. At the same time he pulled Wing's shoulders down to kiss him soundly.

Wing moaned, his body quivering. He leaned into the kiss, chirring, his hips bucking slightly against Drift's before he started to move, settling into a rhythm. Rather than starting slow, the pace he set was relatively fast, testing Drift's limits, seeing what he could get away with.

Hips rocked back, matching his thrusts. Trusting, tolerant, willing to give what Wing needed. Anything Wing needed. Anything he wanted.

Golden optics brightened as ideas presented themselves to him. There were so many things he could do with that kind of trust and devotion. But not yet. If he pushed too hard the white mech would resist, and that would make the training that much more difficult.

Wing picked up the pace, moving faster and harder, his hips driving into Drift's. Dark wings spread to their full span as Wing braced himself with one hand, the other reaching up to explore a white spaulder.

Soft moans escaped Drift as he rocked into the thrusts, his valve tightening and rippling along the length sliding in and out, sparking bolts of pleasure against every sensor node. He reached up, embracing Wing as much as seeking to drive his fingers into the wing joints he knew worked so well.

The charge between them was building _fast_ , nearly as fast as the first time in the desert above.

Golden optics flared, the dark jet trying to maintain the rhythm of his hips and writhe into those hands simultaneously. Wing lowered his helm, nipping into an energon line in Drift's throat, then stroking his glossa over the bite. His vents were wide open, the air over them shimmering from the heat being released. Stray arcs of charge were beginning to lick over his circuitry.

Whoever Drift's last lover was, he had trained the grounder _well_ , whether or not either of them recognized the training as such. Wing seriously doubted that Drift did. There was too much fight and fire in him. No Knight would be so eager to be a pet. A Knight had to be tricked into it, maneuvered and manipulated during training because they could never realize what was happening to them.

It was so much fun.

Right now though, Drift was working him to overload faster than any pet or lover Wing had ever claimed.

It wasn't long before all thoughts of what he could do with Drift, the ways to train him without Drift realizing what was going on, fled Wing's processor. He pressed into those hands, hands that knew just where and how to touch. Never before had he had a lover or pet anything like Drift.

Finally, one hard thrust drove Wing right over the edge. The dark jet's back arched as he reached overload, his keen rising nearly to a shriek, flooding Drift's valve with his transfluid. Charge crackled over his frame, leaping off onto Drift, dancing over white armor.

With a roaring moan Drift's voice joined Wing's, his overload triggered more by the energy jumping to him across field and frame than the sensation of hot, thick liquid in his valve.

The dark jet sank down atop Drift, practically melting into a puddle of shadow over him. Wing's optics were turned off, the jet panting heavily to cool his systems. Smooth palms glided lightly over Drift's armor, committing his planes and smooth angles to memory. He felt Drift doing much the same, though with how well the white mech knew his frame, it was more likely looking for any differences ... or simply enjoying the touch.


	2. Of Swords and Needs

Wing cycled up, feeling content, warm and satisfied. Then he cycled up enough to realize he was alone in his berth, but not in his quarters. The sound of a blade moving fast whistled nearby.

The dark jet's optics powered on, Wing stretching once from helm to pedes before rolling over and looking in the direction the sounds were coming from. His gaze caught the flash of a long blade and then the gleaming white armor. Drift was nice to watch in motion, and it gave Wing a very interesting insight into his training.

Or rather, his lack of it.

Sure, he knew some basic katas, but he hadn't had anyone correct his form in a very long time from the look of it. Probably only had a few decades of training.

Wing lounged on the berth, watching. This was interesting. Drift moved with the grace of a Knight, but he'd clearly only begun his training when he'd gotten separated from or left whoever was training him. The dark jet bet it was the other Wing.

Here was an interesting opportunity, to train the white grounder as his pet _and_ as a Knight. It would be interesting to see of he could pull it off successfully. It was a challenge worthy of his skill and a subject worthy of testing himself with.

On his back, Challenger of Ways thrummed at him, approving of his thoughts. Nothing unusual, and he wouldn't have let the Great Sword deter him, but it was nice to have its approval.

A soft purr escaped the dark jet, both at the direction in which his thoughts had gone, and at getting Challenger of Ways' approval. Settling himself more comfortably, he continued to watch Drift, admiring his frame and the grace with which he moved.

The kata was finished and Too Pure For This World sheathed against Drift's back before he turned to look at Wing. Ice blue optics were bright and the glossa that slid out across Drift's lip plates gave little doubt as to what the white mech was thinking even before he came close enough for his field to confirm it.

Wing purred at him, fluttering one wing teasingly. "Something on your mind?" the dark jet crooned at the white grounder, somehow managing to bat his optics at Drift.

"You," he growled, the resonant rumble from his chassis left no doubt as to how or why, even before he pounced.

Wing laughed, rolling onto his back as his white pet landed smoothly over him, hands and knees positioned carefully so the impact was light while still putting most of Drift's mass over him. Training Drift to wait until the dark jet wanted him, apparently, was going to be the hardest part. Not that Wing was complaining... 

The jet ran his hands over Drift's chassis, loving the feel of the white armor under his palms. Golden optics met pale blue, Wing's gaze distinctly playful. The heat under his palms was enticing. The arousal in the field against his nearly hot enough to draw a moan even before Drift's mouth found his.

Purring playfully, Wing gently nipped at Drift's lower lip, running one hand up the white grounder's back and over the hilt of Drift's Great Sword to stroke the back of his helm. Dark wings and pinions flared out, the wings wiggling against the berth as Wing's field pulsed against Drift's.

Drift's field pulsed in reply, strong and needy as Drift's spike slid out, pressurizing quickly to rub against Wing's abdominal plates.

Wing curled one leg over Drift's hip as his valve cover slid open, lubricant already leaking out. Agile fingers slid under the edge of Drift's helm to stroke and knead the back of his neck, lightly pinching a control cable, then kneading it, fingertips seeking out the most sensitive places.

"Love you," Drift whispered with a moan as he sank into his lover's valve, the sensations just as sweet as the last time he'd been with his Wing.

Wing trilled, nibbling on Drift's lower lip again before Drift's glossa invaded his mouth, his golden optics half-lidded and sultry. Oh, he was going to have so much fun with Drift. 

A moan escaped him as Drift entered him, the dark jet rolling his hips into Drift's, taking him all the way in. Wrapping his arms around the white frame over his, he pulled Drift closer, into an ever more thorough kiss.

White hips drove against black, Drift still too much enthralled by having Wing back to take his time. He chased his overload hard, driving his field and pleasure into Wing with every thrust.

The dark jet's field wound itself through Drift's, echoing the white grounder's pleasure. Wing moaned softly in time with Drift's thrusts, rocking his hips into each thrust to take Drift in as deep as he could go. Dark fingers hooked into the seams of the grounder's back armor, tugging and tweaking and stroking the underlying wiring, his vents wide open and armor fluffed to vent the heat building up underneath.

The physical felt so good, even this rushed Drift knew exactly how to move to rub all the right ways, yet it was the intense emotions in Drift's field that was the best. Devotion. Adoration. Want. So much directed at him, and all of it made Drift so ripe for manipulation.

Wing was careful to keep his thoughts out of his field as he took note of that. Tilting his helm, he concentrated on Drift's throat to hide his brief wicked grin. Drift would make a fine, loyal pet, and he would be all Wing's.

By then Drift was so lost in the physical sensations linked to having _Wing_ under him. He moaned and trembled, giving everything over to reflexes as he chased that moment of perfect bliss he was so close to.

Wing's dentas closed on an energon line, the dark body shuddering under Drift's. The jet's hands roamed over Drift's white armor, dipping into seams after sensor nodes and sensitive wiring. Wing arched his back as Drift thrust into him, taking his spike in as deep as it could go. The calipers of Wing's valve rippled along the length of Drift's spike as charge began to nip at Wing's systems.

"Yessss," Drift moaned, relishing the bit of pain and the intense rush of being so physically vulnerable while he was the one using his spike. With a roar that was nearly a sob of relief his optics flashed white and his frame tensed, pumping his transfluid deep into Wing's valve.

Wing's optics flared golden, letting go of the energon line to let out his own keen of release. His valve tightened around Drift's spike, excess energy dancing along his sensor net. Dark fingers hooked tightly into Drift's back as he rode that wave of pleasure, his grip loosening as he came down from that high to a lightly sated and purring Drift relaxed on top of him.

"Never get tired of this," Drift murmured, his face buried against Wing's throat.

Wing's chuckle was as much purr as laugh. "So I see." He nuzzled his pet, humming contentedly. He lowered the leg that had been curled over Drift's hip, idly stroking Drift's back. The _pleasure-contentment-desire to stay_ was so thick in Drift's field Wing absently wondered why Drift hadn't followed the other Wing to the Well. He had every marker of being _that_ addicted to him.

"Glad you're here," Drift whispered, trembling in the joy of having Wing back, even a black Wing.

"I look forward to getting to know you," Wing murmured. It was true... He needed to know more about Drift and his personality to properly train the white grounder. The clear addiction would make some parts of the training easier, though it would still have to be done very carefully. He had no doubt in the least that Drift could be extremely volatile and violent, even to someone used to Dai Atlas.

* * *

A couple of orns later, Wing had Drift in one of the Citadel's training rooms, stalking in slow circles around the white grounder, watching while Drift ran through one of the basic katas. Every now and then, the dark jet would step in to correct his stance, demonstrating the proper movements.

The dark jet had offered to continue Drift's training as a Knight, though he had warned the white mech that it would be a bit different than what Drift had started with. After taking Drift out of his quarters and around the Citadel for the first time, the first thing Wing had shown him were all the hiding spots too small for certain large mechs to get into, and deep enough that anyone inside would also be well out of stabbing range. That had gotten him a few odd looks from his white-armored pet, but little more.

Drift may not have needed it at the other Citadel, but it was valuable intel to him anyway. After all, any place that was good for hiding from an angry mecha was also good to use for ambush.

Privately, Wing had to admit that Drift learned _fast_. He had a clear natural gift for weapons and moving his frame efficiently. It made him so easy to train in the martial arts and a delight to watch.

Wing purred to himself, his wings riffling slightly against his back. Drift was a delight to watch, graceful, not as light on his feet as Wing was, but getting there. He would make a fine Knight, if he made it that far. And a wonderful pet. The dark jet was also training the white grounder as his pet, hiding some of it within the Knight training.

The door to the training room slid open, catching Wing by surprise. 

Drift paid it no obvious heed, though he was fully aware of the giant midnight blue and gunmetal gray triple changer that had stalked in, how tense Wing suddenly went, and that the newcomer was likely the local Dai Atlas.

"So this is what you dragged home this time," the giant's ruby optics and presence bore more than a passing resemblance to Turmoil. Enough so that Drift found himself struggling not respond as he would to the Decepticon commander.

"Yes. This is Drift." Wing turned to face his creator, his armor slicked down, wings so tight to his back they ached. He kept himself between his creator and his pet, watching the larger mech cautiously.

He had warned Drift about what not to do around or in front of the Knight's leader, but he'd also noticed that Drift didn't always take orders that well. Something that needed to be addressed in Drift's training. For the moment the white mech seemed willing to continue the kata he'd been practicing. A small relief.

Red optics locked on Drift, watching critically.

"You said it was a Knight," Dai Atlas rumbled. " _That_ is no Knight."

Wing's wings flared out. "I said he carried a Knight's swords and moves like one. His training, obviously, was never completed. I intend to complete it." He was still keeping himself between Dai Atlas and Drift, though anyone who looked closely enough would be able to see his pinions trembling.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Drift's rumble was one of deadly insubordination, a defiant tone and manner that came as easily to him as violence did. Ice blue optics looked up to meet ruby, unfazed by the powerful mech twice his height and many times his mass that could move like lightning. Turmoil couldn't break him, this mech wouldn't either. Not when he had Wing at his side.

Wing tried his best not to cringe. Dai Atlas' temper was uncertain at the best of times, and this, clearly, was not the best of times. His wings twitched, pulling partway in. "Drift..."

Drift's optics slid to the black jet. "It's not like we're stuck here."

"That's what you think," was the barely audible mutter. Wing didn't dare take his optics off Dai Atlas, not wanting to get swatted through a wall.

He really didn't need to have worried about himself. His creator's visible fury was locked fully on Drift as the giant lunged forward, his wings flared in a level of indignant outrage that few could incite him to anymore.

Mostly because he'd executed them.

Drift made an easy sidestep, twisting with a backward lunge that was definitely not something he'd learned as a Knight, but executed just as smoothly.

Wing yelped, wings pulled tight to his back and pinions clamped tightly to his nacelles. The last time he'd seen his creator that angry, someone had perished for it.

The dark jet darted forward, though he wasn't quite certain what he could do. Foremost in his mind was getting Drift into the nearest hiding spot and staying there until Dai Atlas stormed off.

He grabbed Drift's extended arm, catching the absolute _rush_ his pet felt at the prospect of a hard, brutal battle. At the same time, Drift offered no resistance to Wing's frantic tug.

The dark jet's nacelles revved high, adding speed as Wing literally dragged Drift away from Dai Atlas and out of the training room, making a beeline for the nearest bolt-hole. Spotting one, he stuffed Drift inside, then dove in after him. Both mechs ended up crammed together at the back of their hiding place, Wing's whole body quivering as he pressed against Drift.

"He's not _that_ dangerous," Drift looked at his trembling, terrified lover curiously. "Not against both of us," he murmured, wrapping his arms around Wing to stroke and soothe him.

"The last mech to make him that angry was executed for it," Wing informed the white mech. "I warned you... Dai Atlas is not stable, and his temper is savage. When he found out that I'd brought you back from the surface, he was seriously considering executing both of us." He pressed as close to Drift as he could, as if trying to merge with white armor. "Don't do that again..."

Black hands stroked black armor, soothing and affectionate. "All right. Not until we're ready to dispose of him."

Wing tensed slightly, his wings quivering under Drift's hands as he watched a large shadow pass the entrance of their hiding place. "That might be a long time coming. Just, please, don't antagonize Dai Atlas again. I don't want to lose you."

Drift hummed, nuzzling him. Already his processor was working on all the ways he could deal with the insane leader. Nothing that made Wing cower like this could be suffered to live. "All right. I'll try to keep my temper."

The dark jet relaxed slowly against him. "Thank you."

He could hear Dai Atlas storming around, but by this point the larger mech had figured out that when Wing hid, there was no finding him or at least no getting near him until Wing decided to show himself again.

"Why haven't you just shot him?" Drift asked in a whisper quiet voice. "I know there are serious weapons here."

Dark wings shifted. "I've never held a gun in my life. I'd be more likely to shoot someone else or myself, and that would just give him or Axe the opportunity to get at me. They wouldn't let me live after something like that. Besides, only Dai Atlas has access to the vault."

"We'll see about that, eventually," Drift promised. "He's not the first insane tyrant I've dealt with. I'll teach you to handle a blaster."

Wing placed a finger on Drift's lips, listening carefully. Where Dai Atlas was, Axe had a habit of showing up, and the black mech could be as volatile as his mate.

After a moment, the dark jet leaned close. "I'd like that," he purred.

This was interesting. In Drift he'd found not just a pet, but also, it seemed, a bodyguard. Trained up as Knight and pet, he ... he could be like Axe was to Dai Atlas. Drift was already utterly loyal, eager to please and a quick study. Maybe he wouldn't be in his creator's shadow forever.

Drift kissed the finger still light against his lips. "So how long are we here?"

"Once he no longer has a target, Dai Atlas will get bored and wander off. Still, it might take a while. It varies." Wing settled against Drift, purring very softly. "Give him a groon, just to be on the safe side."

"Mmm, not long at all," Drift's expression turned seductive and his hands enticing. "Might as well enjoy passing the time."

Wing purred. "Just make sure to keep your voice down." He turned around, wrapping his arms around Drift's neck, his golden optics glinting.

"We might just have to mute our vocalizers," Drift chuckled and ducked his helm for a kiss. "You're not a very quiet one either."

The dark jet grinned. "You have a point there." He returned the kiss, leaning closer to press his frame against Drift's, lifting one pede to lightly rub his toe plate against Drift's shin.

It earned a hum of pleasure and a more intense kiss. Drift's arms wrapped around him to give skilled fingers access to wing joints. "Mine. Nothing will harm you while I function," Drift growled with a nip at Wing's lip plates. "Never again."

"I like the sound of that," Wing cooed, returning the nip. Slowly, dark wings flared open, granting access to other joints and the flat surfaces, as well as the span of the black jet's back.

Life with Drift around was certainly going to be interesting. Wing could hardly wait.


	3. Testing Trust

A decaorn had passed since Wing had brought Drift back to the underground city of the Knights of Shadow. He was still pulling double chores as punishment on top of the brutal penance he'd already undergone, and had insisted on bringing Drift with him. To keep an eye on his pet, as well as to help with the chores. The dark jet didn't trust quite a few of the other Knights to keep their distances from Drift.

Wing had noticed very early on that Drift was devoted to him, almost obsessed. Not that Wing was complaining. That devotion would make it easier to train Drift as his loyal pet. It had also become clear that Drift trusted Wing. Though how far that trust went, the dark jet wasn't sure. It was something he would have to test.

The dark-armored jet was draped over a chair in his quarters, watching the white mech. They'd finally finished up for the orn and returned to their shared quarters for some energon. Wing was thinking hard, working out a way to test just how far Drift trusted him.

True to form and the routine they had developed, Drift was working on short sword katas in the middle of the room. The white mech was obsessive, to say the least. As far as Wing had worked out, he had exactly four potential thought processes, and only one at a time.

Drift was either after energon, overload, recharge or violence/training.

Not necessarily in that order.

The white grounder was a delight to watch. Wing thoroughly enjoyed settling back to watch his pet move. Once he was fully trained, he would be exceptional, magnificent. Both as a Knight and as the dark jet's pet.

Pulling a bit of cord from subspace, Wing toyed with it absently as he watched, his golden gaze following the movements of white spaulders and hip sheaths and aft. Eventually he did take notice of what he was doing, his optics dropping to the short length of green cord weaving between his fingers. 

A slight smile appeared on his face as an idea occurred to him.

The dark jet shifted his position, still fingering the piece of cord, following that line of thought to its end. He needed to find out just how far Drift's trust in him would go. 

Binding the white mech would leave Drift unable to respond or move away, would leave him vulnerable. Then Wing could see how far he could push things. But he wouldn't use green cord on Drift. No, he would use a different color. White.

He waited until Drift relaxed, apparently satisfied with his performance of the new kata he'd been shown that morning.

"Very well done," the dark jet purred, stirring in his chair. He put aside the scrap of green cord, pushing himself to his pedes and wandering over to a small cabinet to retrieve a fresh spool of white cord. Spool in hand, Wing turned to face the white mech, tilting his helm ever so slightly to one side.

The flicker of emotions across Drift's features was complex, and predominantly negative. Still, the white mech sheathed his short swords and offered his wrists, palms together, for the simplest and least painful of the meditative bindings.

Dark audial flares spread out a bit more, Wing tilting his helm a little farther. Stepping forward, he expertly wove the binding between his pet's wrists, tugging Drift down to kneel on the floor.

"Do you trust me?" Wing breathed in Drift's audial, cautiously, not wanting this to backfire.

"Yes," came the answer, low but honest, from a forcefully steady voice. Drift's field was pulled tight, his optics already off.

He _hated_ these sessions.

It didn't matter how much good came of them, he _hated_ it. Only slightly less than he hated watching the white Wing go through the much more painful version the jet preferred.

Wing leaned in to rub his cheek against Drift's, letting out a soft chirr. Unwinding more of the white cord, the dark jet set about creating a more elaborate binding around Drift's arms, over his shoulders and down his chassis, to his legs, holding the white mech in place. One loop loosely ringed Drift's neck like a collar, which Wing decided looked quite fetching. Perhaps one day Drift would wear a real collar, openly showing the world just who he belonged to.

The whole time, Wing maintained a steady purr, stroking the white armor, every now and then leaning in for a nuzzle.

Drift's ventilations picked up, his field reaching out and retracting randomly, confused and aroused. This was nothing like what he was expecting. Nothing like he'd ever thought about.

Part of his processor tried to make connections with his time as a Decepticon. Things he'd seen. Thing's he'd done. Things done to him.

He rejected all those violently.

Wing was nothing like that.

Laying the spool aside, Wing purred happily as he regarded his bound pet. His golden optics sparkled brightly. After a moment to just admire Drift, he reached out to touch, fingers flirting with the bindings, feathering over white armor.

The intensity of the emotions contained in that frame was intoxicating. The mixture of carefully contained fear driving a desire to break free and the arousal at Wing's touch ... it was incredible.

Wing's purr deepened, increased in intensity. Bright gold optics meandered over the taut white frame, all the possibilities flitting through his processor. Dark fingertips flitted over the energon lines and cables of Drift's neck, a tiny, sharp dagger appearing from somewhere concealed under black plating.

Drift was just beginning to settle. His ventilations were deep and regular, but not quite steady. Being bound did not go over well, no matter how much he trusted Wing.

The dark jet leaned against him, nuzzling an audial finial as his hand came up, the sharp blade making a tiny nick in an energon line. Drift tensed sharply with an in-vent, every system in him picking into combat readiness in that instant.

Wing lowered his helm, lapping at the cut, tasting the energon oozing out. His free hand curled around a white spaulder, stroking gently until his pet began to settle.

The jet chirred softly in Drift's audial, licking up the edge from where it broke away from the curve of Drift's helm to the tip. Wing nipped sharply at the very tip, then sucked lightly on it to ease the sting. His hands wandered down, seeking another energon line, this time in Drift's shoulder, and making another tiny cut.

A low whine escaped Drift this time. Not so much objecting to the pain, it was nothing to him, but to the fact it was being inflicted by Wing. He didn't understand this.

Wing licked delicately at the cut, shifting his position, curling around the white frame. Golden optics looked into offlined ones as Wing leaned in to nip lightly at Drift's lower lip, his fingers wiggling into a seam to tug at and pet the circuitry underneath.

That drew a soft moan, Drift's systems responding so very quickly to any offer of pleasure Wing gave. Drift's field was still in turmoil. A mixture of building arousal and very noticeable distress coming from a dozen factors.

Yet Drift kissed back, fiercely.

The kiss was flavored with Drift's own energon on Wing's glossa. The dark jet trilled, rubbing his dark armor against bound white, his field promising that once the bindings came off, Drift would be allowed to play with Wing. His fingers flirted with the twined white loops circling Drift's throat, stroking over the cables and power lines.

So much tension there. So many memories. When he could catch the tightly pulled field, Drift's inner turmoil was laid out to him in emotions and reactions even if he did not know designations or events.

Drift was far past uncomfortable. He was on the very edge of losing control of his reactions completely.

"Drift," Wing purred. "Don't zone out on me." The sharp little dagger vanished back to wherever the dark jet stored it. Agile hands ran down Drift's frame, Wing tilting his helm so he could look Drift in the optics despite the fact they were still off. "It's me, Drift."

"I know," Drift's voice was rough, full of pain from a time long gone. The kind of pain Wing understood all too well. Fear and helplessness fuelled rage, youthful and undisciplined despite all Drift had survived. He wasn't ready to face that yet. He'd picked at it here and there, gotten little corners of the pain under control, but he was nowhere near ready to face the full truth of that time, the truth that was Turmoil.

Wing made a soft sound, dipping his helm to nip and nuzzle at Drift's shoulder. Dark hands stroked over white plating, dipping into seams to stroke the underlying wires. 

"I won't let anything happen to you," Wing purred.

"I know," Drift murmured, holding back a soft moan of pleasure. It didn't stop his chassis from pressing into the touch or his field from reaching out to embrace his love.

Wing continued to stroke, his hands sliding under white plating, fingertips skimming lightly over every wire and circuit he could reach. Light tugs or tweaks were immediately followed by strokes and caresses to distract Drift from the stings.

The dark jet's own energy field pulsed against his pet's, expressing the flier's arousal. The sight of Drift kneeling on the floor, bound and unable to touch back, was driving him wild.

Answering arousal pulsed back, along with something else. Permission. Permission to do anything he pleased. Drift would take it, good or bad, because Wing needed.

Golden optics lit up, Wing leaning forward to capture Drift's lips again. His wings were fluttering against his back. Dark fingers hooked into Drift's hip joints, sliding under the scabbards to touch the connection points, slide into the joint mechanisms. It drew a deep, resonant moan from the bound mech and a flash of _pleasure-yes_ across their mingled fields.

Drift pressed into the touch, pushing his hips forward as much as he could.

Wing chirred, sliding his hands deeper into the joints, fingertips feathering over the mechanisms. Bright golden optics drank in Drift's reactions, the white mech's arousal feeding the dark jet's. It felt _good_. His pet was responding so perfectly. Bound, a cord around his neck, on his knees, optics off and radiating _pleasure-desire_ that was only for Wing.

It was wonderful. It boded so well for the future.

Drift's charge ripple outward as it grew, reaching for Wing to entice him to do more.

Wing slid around behind Drift, nipping and licking at the back of his neck, nuzzling against his helm. Strong, agile hands explored down the white mech's back plating, finding the transformations seams and sneaking inside. The dark jet pressed his nacelles to his pet's long spaulders, revving his engines.

The pleasure and desire radiating outward from Drift's field was intoxicating, Wing's wings fluttering behind him, trying to dissipate the charge building over them. The jet's spike was pressing urgently against its cover, demanding release.

The white grounder's helm fell forward, offering the back of his neck fully as he moaned in mounting need. Armor expanded outward, expelling heat in a vain effort to bring his temperature down.

Wing's denta closed on the back of Drift's neck, the dark jet's purr roughening slightly. The crest of his helm rubbed against a spaulder as he nibbled at the cables, delivering a firm nip to one. 

The jet shifted his hips slightly, one hand wandering down Drift's back to slide between the white grounder's legs, one fingertip stroking the rim of Drift's valve cover suggestively. It slid open without hesitation, Drift pressing back into the bite, Wing's chassis and the touch to his valve.

Drift's field roared with _want_ , nothing of the dark emotions and memories he normally associated with his valve coming through. He trusted Wing too much. Wing only brought him pleasure, even there.

The bindings had been arranged over Drift's legs so as to give him some movement, allowing Wing to sidle closer as he finally released his spike. Two fingers slid inside, testing for slickness and found Drift beyond ready. A dark thumb stroked feather-light over the platelets, teasing, as lubricant dribbled out of the valve and Drift moaned, trembling at the contact and the pleasure it brought.

Wing murmured something unintelligible against the back of Drift's neck, nipping and licking at the cables, his free arm wrapping around Drift to stroke over his chest and abdomen, down to his hips. Drift's spike cover snapped open, releasing his spike to pressurize almost immediately before Wing's hand even reached that far down.

"More," Drift moaned, trembling and rocking into the touch, his field, his entire being begging for more.

"And mecha call me insatiable," Wing chuckled in Drift's audial, rubbing his ornate audial flare against Drift's helm. His free hand slid all the way down, fingertips stroking lightly up the length of Drift's spike before his hand curled around it.

"They don't know me," Drift shivered and moaned. "Didn't know _us_."

Withdrawing his fingers from Drift's valve, Wing brought that hand up to brush lubricant-coated fingertips against his pet's lower lip and purred when they were taken in without hesitation. A small spike of memory-distress surfaced, just as quickly suppressed, flickered from Drift as he began to suck and lick the fingers clean.

Shifting his hips, Wing slid into the slick, tight valve. A shiver ran through the dark jet's frame as the slick heat enveloped his spike. He moaned softly against Drift's neck as that valve rippled around him and Drift's hips pressed back, seeking more.

Drift's dark lover chuckled again at that, humming as he tilted his helm to kiss the side of Drift's neck. Golden optics glinted as he watched Drift work his fingers, beginning to thrust slowly into the white grounder's valve. His other hand flexed around his pet's spike, kneading the metal, before beginning to stroke along the length.

Drift's entire chassis vibrated in the pleasure from his lower frame while his glossa licked and he sucked on the fingers coated with his lubricant. From anyone else, this would be completely degrading, worthy of fighting until he couldn't move to avoid.

From Wing ... it was all pleasure, even the fingers in his mouth.

Wing's hips and the hand on Drift's spike increased their pace, his hand pumping in time to the rhythm of the dark jet's hips. Wing's wings were fully extended, wiggling back and forth, his nacelle pinions fully flared out. Powerful jet engines roared against his pet's white spaulders.

Drift moaned deeply around the fingers in his mouth, his hips, valve ... his entire frame ... responding and rocking into the amalgam of intense pleasure that was sending heavy bolts of electricity crashing through his systems. He moaned and pressed back harder, not even trying to hold back his overload.

It felt so good he even forgot about his bindings.

Little zaps began to dance across Drift's frame and jump to Wing's, heralding the overload that was close to its peak.

Wing increased his pace, settling into a hard, fast rhythm. Tilting his helm, he closed his dentas on one of the cables in the side of his pet's neck, growling ever so softly. His engines were revved as high as they could get without lifting off, vibrating against Drift's spaulders.

The dark jet's entire frame shuddered as charge began leaping onto him, driving his already-high charge even higher.

It was all Drift could take. He roared. His valve clamped down hard as every cable in his frame tightened. A heavy charge hit Wing's hand from Drift's spike as silvery transfluid exploded from the tip.

Wing keened into Drift's shoulder, his hips jerking as he pumped his transfluid into his white-armored pet's valve. Charge danced over his frame, arcing between the points of his audial flares, sizzling along the sensitive lengths of his wings.

Slumping against Drift's back, Wing vented heavily, his body refusing to move for a long moment. It was only the angle of their frames pressing their weight against each other that kept them upright, as Drift was in no better shape to control his frame. It took him a few kliks to be able to withdraw, his sharp dagger reappearing to cut the cords binding Drift. The dark-armored jet settled back, lifting his hand to lick Drift's transfluid from his fingers.

Slowly, Drift seemed to focus fully on reality, coming out of the odd half-trance that the cords always put him in. His helm turned to watch his black lover, arousal gleaming in ice blue optics.

With a slow turn he faced Wing and leaned forward to kiss him, still hungry and his spike hard.

"That was a most unusual binding," Drift purred, still fractionally disoriented by the experience.

Wing tilted his helm, watching the white mech with clear playfulness. "But so enjoyable," he purred back, wiggling his wings at Drift. The tip of one wing nudged the spool of cord, knocking it over. Unwinding as it went, the spool rolled over to bump against Drift's leg.

Ice blue optics followed the movement, but he couldn't bring himself to associate binding Wing with anything pleasant. At least not with cord.

Other things, though....

Drift hummed and picked up the spool, winding it carefully as he stood, steady on his pedes, and turned to the cabinet to put it in place. Instead of choosing another color, he turned to the berth and pulled a rather large chest out from under it.

Dark wings, pinions, and audial fins flared with interest, Wing pushing himself up on one elbow. He wasn't the least bit surprised that Drift had found his stash of toys. It was a small space, they weren't hidden or locked, and Drift had had a _lot_ of time to kill early on. Optics bright, he watched Drift rifle through the well-organized collection. He came up with a set of straps designed to bind the arms wrist-to-elbow, a small but deliciously vibrating valve egg that the calipers could move up and down if he paid attention to it and a blinder designed much like a visor.

A throaty purr escaped the black jet, his optics brightening as he took in the items Drift had selected. A delicious shiver ran through his frame. This was going to be interesting.

"Come up here," Drift looked at him with open hunger as he patted the berth. "Unless you _want_ to pass out on the floor."

Wing's response was a low laugh as he peeled himself off the floor, sauntering over to the berth and flowing onto it like a dark liquid. "Wouldn't be the first time I've passed out on the floor..." He wiggled his wings at his pet, leaning over to steal a kiss.

"I'm sure," Drift chuckled as the kiss ended. "Arms," he said simply, holding up the bindings.

The dark jet sidled closer, folding his arms behind his back so each hand cupped the opposing elbow. As restricting as it was, it was one of the more comfortable ways to be bound. The red stabilizer blades on his forearms practically glowed against his black plating as Wing watched Drift expertly secure him, optics bright.

The _pleasure-anticipation-adoration_ pouring off Drift was delightful, stroking Wing's arousal as Drift climbed onto the berth. Black hands stroked glossy black plating as white lips kissed their way along Wing's neck.

"I'm going to work you until you can't move," Drift promised, his voice deep and husky.

Wing purred at the kisses, watching Drift with anticipation. "I can't wait," he crooned in response, wriggling against Drift, pressing his dark armor against shining white. He didn't resist being pushed down, resting on his chest with his aft still in the air. Strong black hands ran along the angles and planes of his hips and aft; exploring, teasing, enjoying being in control.

Wing squirmed on the berth, his hips performing an intricate little wiggle. He was watching Drift over his shoulder, giving his white pet a playful "come hither" look. Slender wings eased out from under bound arms, fluttering teasingly. As Wing expected, their movement was enough to draw Drift's hands forward to them. Strong, knowing fingers worked the slender lengths, stroking and squeezing.

"Mine," Drift rumbled, pressing his spike into Wing's slick valve with the ease of long familiarity.

Wing moaned softly, his wings pressing into Drift's hands. His whole body shivered as Drift's spike entered his valve, the dark jet pressing back to take as much of it in as possible. That hard pace his pet set was glorious, rubbing him in all the right ways. Yet the adoration, the possessive desire to please in Drift's field was the best part of this. It should take centuries to break a pet in like this, and that would leave the pet broken, no longer with the intense fire Drift still had in abundance.

Wing had never thought he'd ever find a pet like this. He was never going to let Drift go. Shifting his hips, he rocked into each thrust, curving his back. His charge was building fast, something he could feel was Drift's intent. It felt _so_ good. The pounding slide of spike. The strong, sure kneading of hands. The constant pulse of _pleasure-desire-adoration-devotion_ in the field integrated so easily with his own.

The air shimmered over Wing's vents, his cooling fans whirring. The dark-armored body writhed against Drift, Wing moaning softly at each thrust. It felt incredibly good.

It didn't take long for the charge to reach critical mass. Wing's back arched as the overload crashed over him, throwing back his head to keen out his release. His valve tightened on Drift's spike, charge lashing over his plating, leaping off onto Drift's white armor.

Despite the intense pleasure, Drift continued to thrust, his charge still building as Wing's crested, then slowly ebbed, only to be pushed up again by Drift's driving pace.

The dark jet under him was venting heavily, armor practically standing on end to release the heat building underneath. He rocked back into each thrust, writhing against the berth. Slender wings trembled, trying to furl and then flaring back out under Drift's hands, static zaps of building charge prickling the white grounder's palms.

"Told you I'd frag you into oblivion," Drift purred, though his voice was strained with holding back his overload. "What can you take? Five? Six? Nine?"

A garbled sound escaped Wing's vocalizer as he tried and failed to reply. Dark wings trembled from base to tip, then deliberately folded and flared back out five times in a non-verbal reply. Golden optics glinted over a dark shoulder as Wing craned his neck to look back at his wonderful pet.

"I can push you that far, and more," Drift promised, his voice roughening in raw lust and the intense pleasure he gained from this game. "I'm going to ruin you for all others."

This time the response had an element of a laugh in it. Wing was already spoiled, much to the vague disappointment of some of his previous partners. He wriggled against Drift, shifting his hips to rub against white plating, his golden gaze now teasing, daring Drift to prove it.

The almost savage grin his pet replied with and the slight change in the pounding roll of white hips spoke of a challenge not only accepted, but relished. Oh yes, this was a challenge Drift loved, and had yet to lose.

That was a most beautiful expression on the white mech's face, Wing decided, a hot flare of arousal answering that grin. This he was going to enjoy. Shifting, Wing managed to sneak one leg close enough to just brush the tip of his toe plate against Drift's leg, his slender wings fluttering under strong black hands.

It all added up to a quickly building charge for the black jet, something driven even higher by the charge jumping from Drift this time. Wing let out a high-pitched whine, his optics flaring as he pressed back into Drift. He wasn't going to last much longer, the charge already building to nearly unbearable levels.

Black fingers dug into his wing joints, tweaking and rubbing just short of pain. The pleasure in the field mingled with Wing's was edged with smug joy.

The dark jet's voice was nearly a shriek as he overloaded a second time, bucking against Drift. Golden optics flared a nearly blinding golden-white as he arched back, voice breaking into static as Drift roared and flooded his valve with hot transfluid.

Once his body relaxed again, Wing sank back down onto the berth, steam curling lazily from his vents, purring. He looked back over his shoulder at Drift, fluttering his wings ever so slightly.

The white mech looked rather smug as he pulled out and rolled Wing over with some care for those wings. Wing pulled in one wing so he could roll over without damaging it, settling onto his bound arms. Strong black hands rubbed Wing's chest armor as Drift leaned forward to claim a heated kiss.

He returned the kiss with equal heat, lifting one leg to rub his footplate against Drift's leg. Hot air from Wing's vents puffed against white armor. He hadn't recovered yet when Drift pulled back and gazed down at him, calculating.

Those black hands rubbed along the center seam of Wing's chest.

"Open."

The dark jet tilted his helm, looking at Drift for a long moment before unlocking his chest armor and folding the panels out of the way. His spark was darker than his white counterpart's, more orange than gold, its light catching on his red flashing.

The flare of joy above him was unmistakable as a single black hand came up and reached in to very lightly caress the crystalline chamber.

Wing let out a soft gasp as his spark chamber was stroked, pressing his chest into Drift's hand. The dark jet squirmed, wriggling closer to the white mech.

"You've seen mine," the jet purred, looking up out of half-lidded optics. "Aren't you going to show me yours?"

"Yes," Drift promised, his fingers moving rhythmically, exploring by touch. "Once I've drawn an overload from yours."

Wing moaned again, leaning into Drift's touch. His orange spark flared inside its chamber. Threads of orange energy wisped out, curling over the inside of the casing, following the paths of Drift's fingers. 

It drew a matching moan from Drift as the life-energy from his love danced along his fingers, earning a surge from his own spark, desperate for the purity of contact that a spark merge was. It didn't matter that he found it utterly terrifying a prospect to bare his spark and himself like that, his very spark wanted it and it would have it.

"Who's touched your spark before?" Drift demanded, his voice rough with the pleasure, lust and _want_ rushing through him.

One side of the dark jet's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "My spark has never been touched."

Above him Drift shuddered, the intensity of the joy and protective devotion surging to entirely new levels. He lowered his helm to kiss the spark chamber, beyond awed that this was happening.

Wing let out a soft cry, his spark flaring. More threads reached out, feeling their way across their crystalline prison, following Drift's fingers and touch. A sensation almost like a static shock darted from the crystalline casing into Drift.

The white mech moaned, nearly a whine. His spark was spinning in its casing, lunging in an effort to escape and make contact with the brighter spark that resonated so strongly with it. Even if Drift didn't understand a thing of why he was so drawn to Wing, his spark did. It knew what it wanted and it would not be denied for long.

Orange light flared. Wing had been doing his best to keep his spark chamber closed, but his spark had other ideas. A thread of orange energy found an opening as the chamber slowly began to iris open, reaching out to stroke over Drift's face. Wing's optics flared at the contact, the dark jet arching up toward his white pet.

Drift shuddered and groaned, his entire frame gasping at the contact. It was the end of his ability to hold back. Without even thinking he shifted upward to claim Wing's mouth. One hand snaked under the black jet to unlock the bindings as white chest plates opened, offering this Wing a first glimpse of the deep red spark that was _Drift_.

Wing squirmed, his arms coming up to wrap around Drift's body, fingers hooking into his back armor and pulling him closer. The dark jet returned the kiss fiercely, his glossa dueling briefly with Drift's before submitting.

Glancing down as the kiss ended, Wing's optics widened slightly as he beheld the orb of deep red light in the white mech's chest. Freeing one hand, he reached in to lightly stroke its casing, admiring the red glow as Drift shuddered and moaned, his optics turning off and shuttering to focus on the contact.

"Beautiful," Wing purred. The surge of _surprise-pleasure_ took him off guard, as did the intensity of the connection he felt to Drift with only a single strand of deep red dancing along his finger as Drift's spark reached for his.

Orange light flared as Wing's spark responded, stretching out in response. Hair-thin threads of orange light stretched out, grasping for the red spark, the dark jet's own spark looking like it was trying to crawl out of its casing to reach Drift's. 

A purr vibrated through the dark jet's entire frame as his other arm tightened across Drift's back, pulling the white grounder closer. It was a move that met with no resistance as Drift's spark overrode any processor reluctance.

The first touch of strand entwining with strand sent a surge through both mechs, drawing cries of surprise and pleasure. Even that single thread gave them a much more intimate and unfiltered insight into the other's emotional state than any field to field contact.

Wing's mouth opened in a silent cry, his optics flickering in surprise, reflexively pulling Drift as close as he could get. More orange threads reached out, seeking to connect to that deep red spark at the same time red sought orange, seeking to bring both of them together. It was unlike anything the dark jet had ever experienced before. He was well accustomed to physical pleasure, but never in his wildest imaginings had he ever expected touching sparks to be this intense.

With a dozen strands connected both sparks had enough pull on the other to draw themselves out of their chambers and fully entangle their inner coronas. Red and orange bled and blended into a deep orange-red glow between them. Without hesitation, without even _thinking_ , Drift's awareness dove into Wing's, seeking to _know_ this mech that owned him so completely before they'd even touched.

There were clear differences between the white Wing and this dark-armored creature. This Wing had the same core of playfulness, but the personality was darker due to his different upbringing and surroundings. In some ways he was a darker reflection of the mech Drift had known so long ago.

Wing let out a high keen, exploring Drift's spark in turn, probing delicately at the sore spots he could sense, wanting to know more. Memories unfolded for him unresisting, laying bare anything he could ever want to know of his pet. Being sparked a full framed factory worker. Being thrown out in the street not three orns later to fend for himself. All Drift had done, from stealing to selling himself to murdering others in their recharge for the energon in their lines, just to meet the marginal needs he had at the time.

The orn he met Gasket, how hard that utterly alien mech had to work to get past Drift's already well-developed distrust of others. The ache that tiny bit of unconditional kindness had made in Drift, the loyalty it created and the desire to please.

The moment he saw Gasket killed by security mecha and the blurry insanity that gripped him. The moment when clarity reclaimed his rage-shrouded processors and he realized what he'd done, but also how _easily_ he'd taken out half a dozen trained security mecha.

Drinking himself into oblivion only come around in a clinic with a furious medic ranting at him. The anger at still functioning because another had taken the choice from him.

His first battle in the underground areas. How _good_ it felt.

Meeting Megatron, Soundwave and Starscream. Being given a new designation by the Decepticon Lord himself.

Centuries of training, battle, slaughter of the enemy, murder of his comrades, the abuses of mecha stronger than him and those he committed against those who were weaker. The final betrayal of Turmoil and Drift's shock that it was different that time. Bolting, escaping, crashing and the brief, intense, universe changing seven vorns he had with the white Wing.

Over forty eight thousand vorns wandering as an Autobot, changed by the Great Sword that wasn't truly his and his need to make Wing proud. Held to a code that wasn't truly his and a path his very spark resented.

The way his spark sang when the spark now merging with him came near. The relief that he was no longer alone.

Golden optics widened, flaring nearly white, staring unseeing at the ceiling as Wing made his way through that torrent of memories. He knew his were just as open to Drift, laying bare his whole life.

Memories of being sparked to the leaders of the Circle, all the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his creators when Dai Atlas' temper flared, even before he had become one of the Knights of Shadow. How he'd go to the surface to get away from them, however temporarily, and the pain that would await him when he returned. His training and life as a Knight of Shadow, a darker and looser code than the Knights of Light that Drift had known so many centuries ago.

What had drawn him to the white grounder even before his ship had crashed. The agony he had undergone at his creator's hands as punishment for bringing Drift to their hidden city. And his intentions for the white mech who intrigued him so much, to whom he was drawn like a small organic invertebrate to a naked flame.

There was a moment where Drift's processors stalled, the flow of information narrowed to a trickle. Shock, anger ... acceptance.

Then Wing witnessed the extraordinary. The two very separate entities that Drift and Deadlock had become facing off inside the white grounder as something clicked in a place beyond words. Spark and processor twisted, mutated, merged and melded. Lessons, duty, honor, need, approval, comprehension of his new home all mingled until Wing felt himself in a merge with a very different being from the one who had initiated that merge.

Drift ... still very much Drift ... but so much of Deadlock tumbling into the training as the honor and code that had no places _here_ , among the Knights of Shadow, were ruthlessly stripped away.

Golden optics flared again, this time echoing the shock and astonishment that flowed through Wing's spark, the merge halting briefly. Then the dark jet's awareness eased forward again, determined to explore this new creature the white mech had become. What he could sense was definitely interesting.

Wing worked his way deeper, his spark merging nearly completely with Drift's, but holding back just that tiny bit.

The deep red spark against his had other ideas. Drift, even the openly vicious parts that were from Deadlock, _wanted_. It was Wing's first taste of just how strong a will he was dealing with. Yes, Drift caved to him easily, but beyond that _need_ to have Wing's approval and affection, his pet was a survivor of a world no less brutal and savage than anything Wing knew.

~All of you,~ Drift shivered, pushing the merge deeper. ~Want all of you.~

The shiver that ran through Wing's frame was echoed by his spark as that _want_ swept through him. His own spark promptly gave up all appearances of resisting, merging all the way to the core with the deep red spark, gleefully entwining the dark jet's very essence with Drift's. 

Wing's keen, barely heard through the haze of ecstasy, reached an interestingly high pitch, one reserved on some planets for summoning domestically-bred mammalian species.

~ _YES_ ~ came a with roar from Drift, his deep red spark pulsing with joy as it plunged all the way into the orange one that felt more like home to it than the frame that supported it.

~ _MINE_ ~ was the response from Wing. A memory flickered through their joined spark, of another Knight sidling up on Drift only to be warned off by a blur of red-trimmed black. Wing's spark radiated possessiveness as it wrapped around Drift's, merging the two as completely as they could. 

It was a possessiveness that was returned in full, mingled with joy and relief as the final separation between them dissolved.

A moment more and that line could never completely reform.

Bonded.

The part that came from Drift mourned that it had never known this with the white-plated Wing, even as it was relieved that he had not joined so fully with a mech that could never completely understand him.

The dark-armored body writhed against Drift's as feelings and memories surged between them, only his chest, locked against Drift's, unmoving. Energy was building rapidly, pushing them closer and closer to Wing's first spark overload.

Wing's thoughts wrapped around Drift's, purring happily. If Drift had bonded to the white Wing, then he would never have met this dark-armored mech, never have found someone who understood him so well or found a place where he truly fit in.

Wing wasn't sure he'd ever overloaded that intensely before. He clung to Drift tightly, his vocalizer finally shorting out, optics flaring a blinding white before shutting off.

Then there was nothing as the pleasure overwhelmed them both. Keen and roar erupted from them, echoing in the room and well beyond in an audible display of mutual ownership.

* * *

Drift roused first. Completely strutless and sprawled on top of a completely off line black Wing. It was still a full klik and some before his processors caught up with what had happened. With what he'd done.

He couldn't help but smile down at the features softened by a very pleasant recharge. No regrets. His spark pulsed happily in his chest, echoing the state of his bonded now as well as himself.

It felt _good_ on a level he could barely comprehend.

It took a few breems for Wing to begin to stir. Black-plated limbs twitched against Drift's, and sluggish thoughts and feelings began trickling through the new bond, heralding the dark jet's return to awareness. A soft purr was the first sound to escape as golden optics began warming up.

Wing blinked a few times before his optics decided to focus properly, fixing on the pale blue optics of the white mech on top of him. A slight smile appeared on his lips as he lifted an unsteady hand to stroke his palm over the sleek armor of his... pet? Mate? He wasn't sure which. Wing had never given thought to bonding before, having never trusted any of the other Knights enough to let them that close.

He had absolutely no regrets about it, though.

~Bonded. Guardian. Lover. _Yours_.~ Drift answered across the still-stabilizing bond. "Forever," he added out loud as he leaned forward for a kiss that began chaste.

Wing's purr came from his throat and through their bond as he returned the kiss. ~Lover sounds good,~ he replied. ~As does _mine_ ,~ he added after a moment, his optics gleaming playfully.

~Yours. Mine,~ Drift happily repeated, his spark emphasizing just how mutual it was. Yes, Drift willingly gave all he was to Wing. It was not a one-way deal though. Wing belong to Drift just as much as Drift belonged to Wing ... and neither of them felt like they were giving anything up in the deal, which would strike them both as odd, if they could find it in them to care.

"Lover ... pet if you want," Drift murmured. "You know my limits now."

Dark-plated arms wrapped around Drift, tugging him down for a thorough kiss while agile fingers lightly stroked the back of his neck. ~Pet in public, at least,~ Wing replied with a soft chirr. 

Dark wings wiggled, one of them just brushing the discarded restraints and the forgotten valve egg. ~I do believe you were about to have some fun with me,~ the dark jet purred, looking up at Drift playfully.

The white grounder chuckled and kissed him again, a playful and just-shy-of dangerous grin on his features as he finally pulled away. He reached for the egg as he shifted to kneel between obediently spread legs. Turning it on, he slipped it purposefully into Wing's valve. "Close."

Wing's wings and pinions fluttered as the vibrating egg was slipped into his valve. It took him a moment to close his valve cover, his hips squirming ever so slightly. Golden optics lifted to meet Drift's blue, waiting to see what the white mech would do next. His gaze locked on Drift's black finger as it moved to trail oh-so-lightly along Wing's pressurized black spike with red and gold highlights. 

~How badly do you want this inside me?~ Amusement and desire tricked across the bond from Drift.

The dark jet's hips leaned into Drift's hand, a low whine escaping Wing's vocalizer. ~Very badly,~ was the moaned response, accompanied by a hot flare of _want_.

That teasing finger trailed down to the base, then up again before both of Drift's strong hands closed on Wing's hips, forcing them down as Drift leaned in to give teasing, licking kisses along the quivering length of Wing's spike.

Wing's hips bucked despite his best attempts to hold still. The dark jet whined again, reaching down to stroke Drift's helm, fondling his paired audial finials, his fingertips exploring the smooth curves of Drift's helm.

The grounder purred, directing the vibration to his lip plates as they pressed against the spike he was tormenting so enjoyably. He held nothing of how much he was enjoying this back from Wing, nor did he hold back any of the twitches of bad memories either. Wing had seen _everything_ and welcomed him. Not just the mech he was trying to be, but what he truly was.

The black jet couldn't have done anything to earn Drift's devotion more if he'd been trying.

Wing's back arched, his helm falling back onto the berth, voice reaching that interesting pitch and warble that rapidly left the normal audio range. Between the vibrating egg in his valve and Drift's lips on his spike, he was rapidly approaching overload.

What he had seen of Drift's past only intrigued him even more. He accepted the violence as but another interesting facet of this magnificent being, and it attracted him like an iron filing to a magnet.

Then Drift's lips closed around the tip of his spike and a glossa swirled around it, wiping all thought but pleasure from Wing's awareness.

The dark jet was unable to hold still, his hips squirming, wings flaring and twitching and flailing against the berth. Dark hands kneaded white audial finials, though there was little coordination to the touches. One leg hooked around Drift's back, tugging him closer, or trying to at least.

A rumbling chuckle mixed with the purr and Drift took Wing deeper, eventually sliding it all the way down and working his intake around the tip. Skills learned under duress now applied because he wanted to.

The response from Wing was a deep, throaty moan. His hips thrust gently into Drift's mouth, though slightly jerkily due to the vibrating egg in his valve. Any coherent thoughts were completely swamped by the pleasure as Drift drove him mad by inflicting pleasure, but never _quite_ enough to give him the release he was seeking.

A whine of protest escaped his vocalizer as he wriggled urgently against Drift, lacking the coherence to actually form words. Golden optics, unfocussed, stared down the length of his torso at the white mech whose face was buried against his groin. The egg inside his valve gave him a random jolt just as Drift sucked and pulled back all the way to the tip.

Wing's whole body bucked, his voice reaching an even higher pitch before his vocalizer shorted out. That was enough to send him over the edge, the dark jet overloading hard. Hot transfluid hit Drift's lip plates, causing him to jerk back in surprise. Freed from even that small control, the transfluid splattered Drift's face before Wing's spike dropped to splash the remainder over Wing's abdominal plates.

Wing went almost limp, though his hips continued to shift as the egg inside him vibrated. Hazy optics blinked at Drift, a thread of emotion best translated as a cheerful "oops" threading through the bond. Behind it was amusement as he watched his mate scowl and wipe his face clean.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you did that on purpose," Drift growled, an effect that was utterly ruined by the tolerant bemusement and pride slipping through the bond and the way he leaned forward to cover Wing's chassis with his own and the warmth in the kiss.

Wing trilled innocently, giving Drift the most innocent look he could. Wrapping his arms around Drift and stroking the white mech's back, returning the kiss. Then another shiver ran through his frame at another jolt from the egg, his trill taking on a faint whining edge.

"Told you I'd face you to oblivion," Drift grinned down at him. "Now since the toy is occupying your valve ... just what should _I_ do to you next?"

"Whatever you want to," Wing purred in response, his hips squirming. The dark jet was up for almost anything, and he was just as sure as Drift that his bonded knew, and _respected_ his limits.


	4. Secrets Betrayed

Wing was in the lowest levels of the Citadel, grumbling under his breath as he slogged through the sewers. Some of the chores he was assigned as punishment were the worst available, and he was not allowed to trade them off to other Knights. This was the chore he hated most, and was not at all surprised that Drift had declined going with him this time. The white mech was out exploring, occasionally offering teasing or slightly sarcastic comments in response to Wing's mental grumbling.

Letting out an irritated snarl at life in general, Wing got to work, ignoring anyone else who happened to be in the area. In his temper, he even ignored a Knight he knew better than to ignore the presence of. It wasn't as bad as forgetting one of his creators was around, but to forget Thorn was watching you was to invite trouble. The black Knight thrived on learning and using secrets.

A spike of interest across their bond, still less than a metacycle old, drew briefly Wing's attention away from his work.

~Something got your attention?~ Wing asked, pausing in his work. Dark wings fluttered slightly, then returned to their tight tuck against his back.

~A spot we can built out to a very agreeable second home, one that your creators can't get to without using serious explosives,~ Drift sounded extremely pleased with his find. ~Big enough to be comfortable for an extended stay.~

Wing's purr was both through the bond and faintly audible, enough to tip off anyone in hearing range that something was up. Wing _never_ purred when he was stuck in the sewers. Usually it was a stream of profanities and grumbling. ~There are times being a small mech comes in very handy. Much more leeway when it comes to finding places they can't get into.~

Focused as he was, Wing didn't see Thorn perk up and meld even further into the shadows with all his sensors locked on the shorter black and red trimmed jet.

~We're faster too,~ Drift chuckled, trying to send images of what he was seeing through the bond, along with image-ideas for what they could turn it into.

Dark wings fluttered again. ~Looks good. It will be very welcome to have a place they can't get into.~ Approval flowed back through the bond to his white-armored mate. ~Just be careful. Some of the tunnels are a little on the unstable side.~

~I will,~ Drift promised, even as he wordlessly reminded his mate what he'd survived with far less reason to. ~This area looks stable.~

Wing responded with another soft purr, pondering how best to go about purloining the supplies they'd need without anyone catching on. He plotted on that as he returned his attention to his work, his vocalizer letting out the displeased growl familiar to anyone who'd ever gotten stuck in the sewers with him.

Three breems of plotting, snarling and mucking out later a burst of _distress-anger-pain_ torn through Wing from his spark.

Wing let out a sharp cry, dropping his equipment into the muck and curling in on himself, his reactions those of a mech reacting to some pain. But he himself was not injured.

"Wing?" Thorn dropped his effort to hide as he came close, concerned for his friend and occasional lover.

The smaller dark jet didn't seem to register Thorn's presence. He'd dropped to his knees in the sewer ooze, still curled in on himself, wings fluttering with distress but not flaring out, as if pinned to his back. Wing whimpered, low in his throat. "Drift!"

Thorn scowled, trying to make sense of what he was staring at. He knew it should make sense, but it was entirely too weird. Cautiously he reached out and caught Wing's shoulders and shook him, trying to get the younger jet's attention.

Wing jumped. Wide golden optics caught Thorn's dark red for a long moment, but the smaller jet didn't seem to actually see the other mech standing there. After a moment, Wing staggered to his pedes and bolted down the sewer tunnel, heading as directly for his mate as the tunnels would allow. He'd be out of the sewers at the first available access hatch.

Too startled to react, Thorn stood still for a moment, then twisted and took off after the other jet. Whatever was going on, he wasn't about to lose Wing. Axe would be _pissed_.

Wing scrambled out of the sewers as close to where Drift was as he could, ignoring his surroundings in his haste to reach Drift. He was leaving a trail of sewer muck behind him, making it easy for Thorn to track him. Taking flight, he headed straight for the collapsed tunnel. It was deep in the tunnel system that surrounded the city cavern, deep enough that Wing knew of mecha that had been taken out here to starve to deactivation, their frames never to be found.

Finding the place where the tunnel had collapsed, the dark jet threw himself at the pile, tossing rocks and boulders out of his way.

~Stop. Panicking.~ Drift growled at him, the full authority of one who had been a Decepticon battleship's SIC behind the demand. Pain and immobility rippled with the words, though both were studiously ignored by the grounder. ~Comm Redline for help. Say I commed you before I was buried.~

The dark jet trembled, then did as Drift asked. He had to turn down the volume on his internal comm to prevent the resulting rant from shorting out his audial receptors. Wincing, Wing continued to dig, trying to pick the best spots to throw the rocks without clogging up the tunnel behind him. ~They're coming. Redline is doing his best to short out my comm system with his yelling, but they're coming.~

~Good,~ Drift told him before drifting into the numbing half-aware existence of intense pain and limited mobility.

"Wing, _what_ is going on?" Thorn demanded as he watched the bizarre behavior.

The whole time, from descending into the sewers to his desperate flight to reach his mate, Wing had somehow never noticed Thorn's presence. The dark jet almost hit the cave ceiling in surprise, whipping around with wings flared and armor on end. It took him a moment to realize just who had spoken to him.

"Drift was out exploring the caves and was caught in a cave-in," Wing growled at the larger mech, unease swirling in his thoughts. "He commed me just as the cave collapsed. Now get your aft over here and help me dig him out!"

Thorn gave him a scrutinizing, disbelieving look, then complied. "You've called in help?"

"Yes, I've called in help." Wing flicked a rock at him. Most of his armor had settled, but the armor on his upper back remained slightly fluffed. He eyed the other mech for a moment, aware that Thorn knew _something_ was off, then went back to clearing the rubble, keeping an optic on Thorn as the slender Knight helped move rocks.

"You're entirely too attached to him, you know," Thorn said quietly after nearly a klik of silence.

Wing shot a glare at the other black mech. "He's my pet, and I find him very intriguing. What of it?"

"Next time you really tick your creators off, they might just take him from you," Thorn reminded him. "A pet is quite a privilege."

Wing's armor stood on end, pinions and wings flaring out. "He's _mine_! No one can take him from me!"

Thorn paused, regarding the youngest Knight in silence for a moment. "He's Master Dai Atlas. He can do anything he wants to."

The growl Wing let out held a mix of bitterness and rage at the sound of his creator's name. "Drift is _mine_. I don't care what my creators say."

The sounds of approaching mechs reached their audials, accompanied by the sound of Redline's ranting. Wing flared his audial fins, listening, then glowered at Thorn again.

"Good luck making that stick," Thorn x-vented before falling silent. It wasn't a conversation for other audials.

Redline appeared with two heavy-framed mechs, all three too large to easily move in the tunnel. No doubt it was why Drift was in this area.

"You're sure he's _there_?" Redline asked with a growl and glare at Wing.

"Yes, I am perfectly sure," Wing answered. He pointed toward the pile of rubble. "He's there. I tracked his comm signal to this tunnel."

Redline nodded at the worker mecha he brought with him and all give went to work in silence.

~Getting closer,~ Drift's thought whispered across the bond along with a sense of relief as some of the pressure was relieved from his crushed and pinned frame.

Dark wings twitched. ~Redline brought two big worker mecha with him. We're almost to you. Hang on, my lover.~ A tiny, distressed chirr rose from his vocalizer. 

Only Thorn was close enough to hear, or notice how Wing focused on one specific part of the debris pile. Going on a hunch, Thorn moved to help him with that section.

~I am,~ Drift reassured him, memories of the beatings he'd taken and survived, including the one that put him in his current frame, drifting up to emphasis the point.

A klik later and Drift's very intentional groan drew everyone else and sent Redline into a frenzy of commands to hurry up so he could get to his patient. _He_ didn't care what status Drift held. He was a resident of the Citadel and thus was one of his patients.

Wing all but pounced on the pile, sending rocks flying in all directions. He was making that soft, distressed chirr again. Finally, rock rattled against metal, and Wing let out a soft cry. White metal was showing through the piled debris.

White. Living metal.

"Thorn, get him out of the way," Redline ordered as he began to give careful directions to the workers. "He's too emotional."

"Yes sir," Thorn murmured and grabbed Wing by the shoulders to pull him back.

Wing let out a protesting squawk, briefly pulling against Thorn before subsiding. Golden optics watched intently as white metal was extracted from under the rubble, black armor bristling at every creak of damaged armor or sound from Drift. The dark jet somehow managed to forget just who was standing behind him, and who was probably getting way too much information from the way Wing was behaving.

Wing was a quivering mess by the time Drift had been fully extracted and laid on the ground for Redline do some basic field repairs to stop him leaking and sparking.

The medic's silence was telling to anyone who knew him.

Dark armor slicked tight to Wing's frame. He risked a step closer to his mate, peering anxiously at the damage to Drift's frame. 

"How bad is it?" he finally ventured to ask, looking at Redline.

"He'll survive," the medic didn't look up from his work. "You won't be playing with him for a while."

~What he thinks,~ Drift snickered at Wing despite the amount of pain and system failures he was in.

"As long as he survives for me to play with later." Slowly, Wing's wings loosened from their painfully tight tuck. The dark jet eased as close as he dared, watching Redline work and wincing at the amount of visible damage.

~Survived worse,~ Drift repeated. ~A lot worse.~ There was a twitch and burst of panic across the bond before it went silent as Redline put Drift into medical stasis.

Without a word the medic picked Drift up and walked to the tunnel entrance before lifting off.

"Keep me informed," Wing told the medic. He looked at himself, at the sewer muck dried onto his armor, and growled. "Back to the sewers..." He muttered an interesting profanity under his breath.

* * *

Drift caught the medical overrides insisting that he boot slowly and in default order. He _hated_ being put under by a medic. They never understood how stressful it was to be aware but without weapons, defenses or half your sensors. Every cable was tense when he finally managed to turn his optics on and take in the medical ward of the Knights of Shadow's Citadel.

Redline wasn't far away, watching the monitors. Gold optics, like Wing's, lifted from the display screens to fix on the white mech finally coming online.

Drift stared back at him before shifting to sit up. "I expect I owe you some thanks."

"And some explanations." Redline's optics narrowed. "You're quite clearly my own handiwork. But I have never seen you before Wing brought you back from the surface."

Drift let out a muttered grumble. "You didn't, but Redline did. I'm not from this dimension."

The medic lifted an optic rim. "Oh, really? And that's why I don't know you, yet your design is clearly one of my own building?"

"You have a better idea?" Drift cocked his helm. "Cause that's the best one I've got."

Redline gave him a narrow-opticked look. "If that's true, that might explain a few things. Of course, it's also practically impossible to prove, so I guess I will have to take your word for it."

"If you work out another way it all works out, I'll listen," he shrugged and hopped to his pedes with the easy grace of a Knight Initiate with a long lifetime of war. "For me, I've got Wing back and that's where I stopped caring about the how of it."

That got him another long look from the medic. "Your little jet will be along shortly. He's been pestering me every few joors like clockwork. I'm going to do something drastic to him if he doesn't mute his vocalizer and let me work."

Drift chuckled deeply. "Good luck on that one. He knows you're bluffing."

Redline gave the white mech a sour look, but whatever response he might have had was cut off by the sound of approaching jet engines. 

Wing landed on the balcony, trotting inside. He looked from the medic to Drift. "Ah, good, you're fully repaired."

"Yes," Drift purred at him with a submissively coy look that promised all the catching up Wing could handle.

Wing's golden optics flared. "Good," he purred in response. "This time, I might have to put you on a leash to keep you from wandering off and getting damaged again."

Redline glared at both of them, brandishing a tool. "I would tell you two to take it easy, but I know you'll just ignore me. Now scram! Out of my sight!"

Drift smirked at him and took the three steps to wrap his arms around Wing's neck. ~Go before I remember how much I hate flying.~

Wing wrapped an arm around Drift, letting out a deep purr. ~Going.~ His engines revved to a roar, the dark jet taking two steps out on the balcony and lifting off. Rather than making a direct flight to their quarters, he swirled around the tower once before finally touching down.

The dark jet hummed softly, pressing his forehelm against Drift's in an effort to stop the grounder's trembling and the pure terror screaming across the bond. Slowly, too slowly, Drift's frame stilled against Wing's as processors and spark both accepted that he was firmly on a solid surface once more.

~We've landed,~ Wing purred through the bond, nuzzling his mate. He tugged the grounder inside. ~Flying is something you might have to get used to... It comes in very handy when ducking my creators.~

~Grounders aren't meant to fly,~ Drift grumbled, but didn't resist being led. ~I can hold on, and I'm pretty sure I didn't scream this time.~

~You didn't,~ Wing assured him. He tugged Drift over to the berth, curling up on the white grounder's lap with a contented purr.

~You are entirely too cute,~ Drift chuckled as he wrapped his arms around his mate and leaned back to lie down with Wing half on top of him. ~Redline ask for my story, so he knows at least I think I'm from another dimension.~ He nuzzled the black helm affectionately. ~He didn't look convinced, but he doesn't have any better ideas either.~


	5. The Shadow's Leadership

Axe watched from his favorite corner shadow in the quarters he shared with his very much insane mate and smiled to himself. He'd put so much work in creating the perfect distraction to his manipulations and it was behaving exactly how it had been programmed to. Granted he would have preferred to have their creation targeted slightly less often, but Wing did bring it on himself.

Dai Atlas was pacing, a constant growl rumbling from his throat, wings flaring. The proverbial thunderstorm could almost be seen raging over his helm. The big deep blue mech was well into winding up into a fine display of bad temper. As was becoming fairly usual, it was Wing and his new pet Dai Atlas was getting bent out of shape about.

"What did he do this time?" Axe made his voice sound cheerful, which wasn't difficult given he really did find the entire situation with Drift amusing.

The response was a mostly incoherent snarl. It took a few kliks for Dai Atlas to get himself under enough control to actually answer the question.

Red optics flared at the black mech, all but invisible in his favorite shadow except for the glow of blue optics. "Wing is training Drift as a Knight. _Without_ my authorization!" Long wings flared out, emphasizing just how furious Dai Atlas was.

"He has become quite attached to the outsider," Axe acknowledged. "He's never respected your authority either."

The bigger mech's hands fisted, for a moment very tempted to deck his mate. "Unacceptable. He does not have _permission_ to train the outsider!" If a mech could be said to "froth at the mouth", that was what Dai Atlas was doing.

"We can always remove the outsider so his Great Sword can go to a more suitable mecha," Axe suggested smoothly, not really afraid of the uncontrollable temper he'd created. "Or we can take the training out of Wing's hands, and into our own," his voice dropped to a seductive purr. "It's been quite a while since we've had an initiate to mess around with."

"Getting rid of the outsider might make Wing even more rebellious," Dai Atlas shot back, resuming his pacing, baring his dental plates in a snarl. Red optics narrowed at Axe. "Us train this Drift? As what? A Knight, as Wing would have him?"

"Better than have Wing train him as a Knight," Axe shrugged. "Or worse, have his Great Sword continue his training. Primus only knows what _that_ would produce, other than trouble."

The blue mech pondered that for a moment, struggling to shove his temper aside long enough to think about it with a semi-clear processor. "It would be an interesting opportunity to mess with his processor. And with Wing's at the same time."

Axe chuckled. "And there is no better opportunity to be rid of him if he proves uncontrollable than if we control his training. Even Wing knows how many initiates never make it."

"Point." Something dark slid along their bond. "And it would give us an opportunity to get Wing properly under control by using his pet against him."

Axe sauntered out of his shadow and towards his mate. "I love it when you're deviously commanding."

The midnight-blue mech turned to face his smaller mate, wings half spread, his frame subtly trembling from his suppressed temper, red optics blazing. Dai Atlas' hands were tightly fisted, slowly relaxing. One came up to clamp onto a black shoulder, roughly pulling Axe closer as the black mech relaxed, welcoming the roughness and the violent spiking he was going to receive.

Lips met in a clash that was a true battle, yet one that Axe ultimately surrendered before his mate became annoyed with his defiance.

Dai Atlas growled into Axe's mouth, backing the smaller mech up to pin him against the wall. Large hands ran over Axe's plating, roughly tugging at wires and armor plates, sinking into joint mechanisms almost hard enough to cause real pain. All exactly as Axe had trained him to do.

Moans and growls exchanged as Axe's hands went for his mate's wings, stroking and squeezing sensor points with enough pressure to be challenging without being a threat.

Dai Atlas pressed closer, firmly pinning Axe against the wall. His spike cover hissed open, his spike pressurizing between them. Almost feral red optics met blue as a large hand slid lower to press demandingly against Axe's valve cover. It opened immediately, the slickness just enough to prevent damage but not enough to make the slide of such a large spike _smooth_.

A deep growl rose from somewhere in the vicinity of Dai Atlas' fuel tank. Hiking the smaller mech up and using his own mass to pin Axe against the wall, Dai Atlas sheathed his spike in one swift gesture, the movement not stopping until the tip struck the ceiling nodes of Axe's valve and the black mech roared in the addicting mixture of pleasure, pain and fullness.

"Yes!" Axe howled as Dai Atlas pulled back and drove forward again. He gripped his mate's shoulders and wrapped his legs around his hips, eagerly riding the powerful, violent thrusts.

The deep blue mech tilted his helm, sinking his dentas into Axe's neck hard enough to draw energon from a punctured line. His thrusts were hard and fast, his hips slamming against his mate's hard enough to dent black metal.

" _Mine_ ," Dai Atlas growled in Axe's audial, releasing his mate's neck and seizing his lips in a rough kiss.

"Always," Axe moaned, surrendering willingly and gladly to his mate's aggression.

Dai Atlas bit Axe's lower lip, a sharp nip hard enough to split the metal. His fingers dug into Axe's sides, catching in the cables and wiring under the seam. His thrusts increased in speed and roughness as the deep blue giant chased his overload, uncaring about whether his mate did or not.

Axe always did anyway. The rush of Dai Atlas' overload always worked for him. What worked for Dai Atlas ... submission and acceptance of the pain and rough handling.

Dai Atlas' hips jerked roughly as the rising storm of energy broke over him, throwing back his helm to let loose a feral roar. Transfluid burst from his spike, filling Axe's valve. The soothing sting of the heavily charged thick liquid was all it took for Axe to bellow his own overload as the pleasure exploded across his neural network. Delicate wiring was stretched almost to the breaking point as Dai Atlas pulled one hand free of a seam between black armor plates, slamming it into the wall hard enough to create a deep dent.

There was a good reason the pair had most of that level of the Citadel's residence tower all to themselves.

The thrusting, snarls and grunts continued as Dai Atlas continued, seeking another overload and the hazy, pleasurable relaxation that always came after he had enough of them. The cuddling Axe was simply an extra plus.

The deep blue mech's engines roared, vibrating through their frames. He shifted his hips, burning red optics meeting Axe's blue briefly, adjusting his grip on his black-plated mate. The fingers of one hand worked their way deeper into a side seam, scraping roughly over the mechanisms and catching in the wiring, sending sharp stings through the smaller mech's sensor net.

It was perfect. Aggression and submission. Pain and pleasure. Limits pushed to the very edge but never crossed. After so long together they knew each other flawlessly and relished in using that knowledge.

* * *

Wing had just gotten back to his quarters after finishing another of his chores, greeting his mate with a purr and a flutter of dark wings. The dark jet draped himself across the berth, watching Drift running through his katas, arranging himself so as to subtly distract the white mech. One of his favorite games was to see how long he could tease Drift before the white mech got fed up and pounced on him.

The jet had only been watching his mate for maybe a breem before unease began threading through their bond, Wing sitting up on the berth. The unease was enough to cut the kata short, Drift turning to face him fully with only a questioning look to demand an explanation.

"I just got a summons from Dai Atlas," the dark jet explained. Dark wings shifted uneasily, pulling as close to Wing's back as they could get. "He wants me to bring you with me."

"That's ... not good," Drift said, his unease rising. Not nearly as much as Wing's. He simply didn't fear the pair as their creation did.

"Not good at all." Wing inhaled deeply, trying to settle his nerves. "He's in one of the larger training rooms..." Staying close to Drift, he led the way to where his creators waited.

A gentle nudge along their bond marked Drift's attempt to calm him as they walked.

Wing was far too nervous to be calmed. He knew his creators far better than Drift did; there was _always_ a reason to be nervous around them.

The lights of the training room caught on Dai Atlas' deep blue paint, the big mech turning glowing ruby optics on the pair as they entered. Wing's optics automatically scanned the shadows, looking for Axe, who was never very far away.

~Left,~ Drift guided his optics to the black giant.

"You've been training him," Dai Atlas growled, his wings spread fully as his rage began to roil up again.

"I have," Wing acknowledged, his wings pulling in so close the gears whined and ached. He kept a wary distance from both his creators, keeping wary optics on Dai Atlas while focusing a sensor on Axe. "He already had some training; I am working on completing it."

The deep, furious roar came from Dai Atlas' turbines and engine. "You _admit_ to training a mech, and _outsider_ no less, to be a Knight _without permission_?"

~You have that blaster?~ Drift tensed fractionally, fully prepared to fight for their lives.

~Yes, I have it,~ Wing replied, visibly flinching back and almost hunching in on himself at that roar. His body tensed in expectation of being struck. "Yes..."

"If he didn't my Great Sword would," Drift pointed out, forcibly keeping his gaze down and tone less challenging that it wanted to be.

"He has a point," Axe spoke from his shadow, sounding entirely too reasonable to Wing's experienced audio.

Dai Atlas glared over at his mate, nearly forgetting that it was the plan.

"And Primus only knows how that would have turned out," Wing added, still keeping well out of reach. He gave Axe a suspicious look, but said nothing.

Dai Atlas glared furiously at the lot of them, but the look his mate got promised _much_ pain in the black triple changer's immediate future. After a moment he snorted and focused on Wing, then Drift. "If you're going to be trained, it'll be done _properly_."

Drift gave him a wary look but kept silent. The bond buzzed with a general sense of WTF.

Wing froze, staring up at the larger mech. "Are you saying... what I _think_ you're saying?"

"We will take over his training," Axe spoke up once more, his smirk all but invisible.

"Really not necessary," Drift murmured. He wouldn't have wanted the original pair he knew to train him. This pair? He was fairly sure it was going to be similar to trying to have Megatron and Starscream train him at the same time and place.

The dark jet's jaw almost dropped straight to the floor. Fear swirled through the bond, his wings trembling against his back armor. "But... but..."

"But?" Dai Atlas locked his gaze on his creation, literally daring Wing to speak.

Wing shrank back, armor and nacelle pinions pinned tightly to his frame. He bit back anything he'd considered saying, making a low whine in the back of his throat. There were some lines even he was wary of crossing; the last time he'd crossed one of those lines, it had taken several orns to put him back together again.

"It seems he _can_ learn," Axe snorted with open amusement. "Now scat. Time for us to find out just how much work we have to do on Drift."

Wing almost vibrated, not wanting to leave. It took Dai Atlas growling and advancing a step to get the dark jet to back off.

~Be very, very careful,~ he cautioned Drift. ~Don't provoke _either_ of them. Dai Atlas is a walking time bomb, but it's Axe you have to keep an optic on.~ Fear underlined the words.

~I'll be careful,~ Drift promised in reply, along with a strong reminder that these were hardly the first insane killers he'd survived an extended period around.

Wing cast one last look at Drift before being all but chased out of the training room. Leaving Drift alone with his creators.

As soon as he was back in his quarters, Wing pounced on his computer terminal, hacking into the security feeds. Carefully, to avoid tripping any alarms, yet quickly, he accessed the feed from the camera in the training room where his mate was trapped with his creators. Tuning into the bond, Wing hunched over the screen, his armor tight to his frame and wings twitching with anxiety.

Drift was already squared off in a combat stance against Dai Atlas, both using their real plasma swords, not the practice blades that as a normal test would have. Across the bond Wing felt Drift ... distantly. It was an odd sensation, but looking at his mate, he was fairly sure it was a side effect of Drift being so completely focused.

And possibly an effort to protect him from the pain the grounder knew was coming.

Wing's golden optics were glued to the screen, the dark jet completely unaware that he was making a low, distressed keen in the back of his throat. If he'd had fingernails, he would have been chewing them.

Dai Atlas was pacing like a stalking cyber-lion, making at least some attempt to curb his temper ever so slightly. That wouldn't last long, though, even if Drift behaved perfectly. Something that was unlikely on the best of orns.

The first exchange of blows were met and parried, something that should have made Wing proud if he wasn't so wound up in his desperate hope that he'd still have a mate at the end of this.

The dark jet's fingers were starting to leave dents in the edge of the desk. His optics were glued to the screen. If someone waltzed into his quarters and started rifling through his things, he would never notice.

Dai Atlas' growl was audible over the camera feed as the massive mech uncoiled with lightning speed, dental plates bared in a snarl. The attack was met with a matching snarl and equal ferocity, Drift's savage joy at this sneaking through the bond. As terrifying as it was, Wing couldn't help but be impressed by the raw savagery and speed his mate displayed when he let go of that tight control the other Wing had trained into him.

He was no match for Dai Atlas, but he was far closer than Wing would have given him credit for.

Some of Wing's armor loosened again, but most of it remained slicked down, his distressed keen fading into a chirr. His hands kneaded the edge of the desk restlessly.

Dai Atlas' optics flared with a mad light. He was starting to slip into full rage, his wings twitching rapidly against his back. Wing had seen him in that state before, and had seen potential Initiates bleeding out at the giant's pedes on more than one occasion. Yet none of them had Drift's skill, heavy armor or experience in taking and dealing damage. It might not be enough to save Drift from being pummeled, but Wing knew his creators. Anything that responded with the level of savage abandon Drift was displaying was a mecha they tended to tolerate.

Drift dove in, trying to score a useful strike on Dai Atlas' hip joint, only to be caught by the edge of the giant's blade hard enough to slice armor and send Drift to the floor.

Wing cried out in reaction, a sharp note of sympathetic pain. Unconsciously, one dark hand clawed at his own armor in the same place Drift had caught Dai Atlas' sword, as if the wound had been to Wing's own frame.

For most other mechs, Dai Atlas would not have given them a chance to recover. But this time, for some reason known only to the midnight blue mech, he paused, waiting, narrowed optics glittering with feral fire. 

Drift leapt to his pedes and set himself for another attack, nothing about him giving any indication he even felt the damage he'd taken. He moved smoothly, ice blue optics narrowing and armor in an odd combination of extended to make himself look bigger and compressed to protect against attack. It didn't make any sense to Wing until three exchanges later when he finally picked up the value of the extended sections for cooling and to catch blades at a compromising angle.

An utterly non-traditional move. One Drift must have picked up in his travels.

His mate - Wing wasn't quite sure when he'd stopped thinking of Drift as 'pet' - was certainly a clever mech. The dark jet's hand dropped away from his armor, returning to the edge of the desk.

Dai Atlas was a whirlwind of movement and blades, but there were times when his sheer bulk worked against him. He watched the smaller white mech like a cyber-wolf eying the petro-rabbit it was about to make lunch of. Yet more often than not, the petro-rabbit got away and left the cyber-wolf hungry.

Perhaps not the best comparison, because this petro-rabbit had teeth to match the cyber-wolf, and was far more inclined to face his predator than run. Dai Atlas had the cuts to show for it too.

Wing absently chewed his lip, taking in the cuts on his creator's armor. Despite the worry and tension crawling through his circuits, he was still proud of his mate. Not many were able to last against Dai Atlas, much less land even a single hit, when the Knight leader was in that barely-controlled state.

A hoarse roar startled the dark jet into jumping, golden optics going wide as Dai Atlas lunged, one sword point aimed directly at Drift's torso. If that blow connected, Drift would be skewered. 

"No!" Wing actually clawed at his monitor as his mate dove to the side, just not quite fast enough. The blade connected with white armor, slicing into angled plates as Drift continued to move and twist, actually forcing the weapon to cut in a path of his choosing. It was ugly, it _had_ to hurt like the pit, but even before Drift finished his turn and moved to retaliate Wing knew it wasn't a critical injury. Bad enough for Redline to repair it without too much cursing, but nothing that would stop the destructive creature that Drift was right now.

Wing keened in reaction to the pain leaking through the bond, automatically clawing at his own armor. His fingers felt nothing even as the pain pulsing to him from Drift, despite the shields blocking the bond, insisted that dark armor had been sliced open.

Red optics glowing with the fire that almost always heralded a kill, Dai Atlas whirled on Drift. At the same moment, there was a flicker of black as the other mech in the room finally moved. Axe darted forward, behind Drift, one closed fist delivering a mighty blow to the back of the white helm. The blow was hard enough to rattle Drift's cortex and drop the white grounder in a senseless heap at Axe's pedes.

Some part of Wing's processors noted that even though Drift was no longer able to perceive the pain, _he_ could still feel it. Most of his awareness was on his creators though, watching as Dai Atlas advanced on Axe and the white jumble of armor that was his target.

"No killing this orn," Axe told his mate, though the tension in his frame suggested he didn't expect to be obeyed.

That deadly red glare fixed on the black Knight, Dai Atlas baring his dental plates at his mate. What slid through their bond was a non-verbal hint that Axe should get out of the way. The blue mech raised his swords, intent on finishing what he had started.

Wing keened, hunched over as though he himself had been nearly impaled on Dai Atlas' blade. He pawed at the monitor, trying to reach through to his mate. Even his frantic pulses through the now unblocked bond only told him that Drift still functioned and his spark was strong.

With a low mutter Axe met his mate's optics. Blue optics flashed, and red ones abruptly blinked off as Dai Atlas crumpled as completely as Drift had.

::Wing,:: Axe's comm was auto-accepted. ::Come get your mate. He's probably damaged enough for Redline.::

::My _what_?:: Wing automatically spluttered, launching himself out of his chair and almost running into the door as he skittered across the floor.

::Oh please. You can pull that pet thing on Dai Atlas, but I can see that you treat him as an equal, or nearly so,:: Axe chided his creation. ::I carried you, remember? I know you better than _anyone_.::

Wing growled something unintelligible, though the rude tone did carry through the connection. ::First time I've been with anyone this long without them either bolting on me or breaking. So what if I'm attached to him?:: He managed to regain most of his composure before reaching the training arena, walking in as casually as he could. "Satisfied by his performance?" the dark jet asked, eying his creator as he stalked over to the pile of armor that was Drift.

"He's rather impressive," Axe admitted, his smile a dangerous one. "You're lucky he seems so attached to you. He'd make quite the mess of you before you managed to put him down if he did decide to leave."

Wing's optics narrowed warily at the sight of that smile. "He won't leave," he informed Axe with complete certainty. "He would do anything he had to in order to stay with me." 

Giving the larger black mech one last wary look, Wing turned his attention to Drift, keeping a cautious sensor on Axe, taking a moment to figure out the best way to pick up his bonded without making the injury worse. Drift was heavier than he looked, built from the core out for strength and taking heavy damage, unlike most Knights who sacrificed protection for agility, or as airframes, never had heavy armor to start with.

With a grunt Wing got him partway over a shoulder, the rest braced in his arms, and hurried as quickly as he could out of the room. They were both entirely too vulnerable right now if Dai Atlas rebooted looking to kill.

* * *

Several joors later, Redline was finally completing the repairs on Drift. The medic had commented on the fact that the injuries were surprisingly light for a mech who'd taken on Dai Atlas, and from there the commenting had devolved into snarling at the dark jet who'd flatly refused to leave. Wing was literally hovering well above the floor, watching every move the medic made and keeping very pointedly out of range of an angry grab.

"Would you land already?" Redline glared up. "I'm sure he'll appreciate seeing you from a normal angle."

The dark jet eyed the medic for a moment before slowly, finally lowering back to the floor. He was still keeping out of grabbing range, wary of any sudden movements or flying tools. While Redline wasn't typically the kind to throw things, when he was annoyed enough all bets were off. Keeping a wary optic on Redline, Wing eased closer to Drift. He could hear his mate begin to boot up from the medical stasis, and teek it was well. The fierce dark warmth in his spark that was Drift began to roil, catching all the minute shifts as Drift worked through the enforced slow boot.

Wing managed to refrain from drooping with relief or doing anything that might give away that Drift was more than his pet and berth-warmer to the other sets of optics in the medical bay. The dark jet stepped closer to the med berth, his golden optics fixing on Drift's face. Slowly the white features moved from lax to the displeasure of booting from stasis.

With a grumble of his engine ice blue optics lit. Focus went to Wing first, a pulse along the bond checking that the jet was indeed in good repair, then to Redline. "Really hoped not to be seeing you so soon, Doc."

~I'm fine,~ Wing purred, making sure to keep the purr strictly internal this time. ~More worried about you. Dai Atlas was actually trying to kill you by the end.~

Redline scowled. "And I'd hoped not to be seeing more of you. But then you had to go and cross blades with _Dai Atlas_."

"Wasn't my idea," Drift grumbled as he sat up. "They decided to train me as a Knight. This was orn one."

"He actually managed to earn the tiniest crumb of tolerance from Axe, at least," Wing added. "I think." He watched Drift, optics flicking over white plating before settling onto his mate's face.

"Which means I'll very likely be seeing a lot more of you." Redline's scowl darkened, the medic turning to put his tools away.

"Probably," Drift grunted as he hopped to his pedes and turned into Wing, pressing and nuzzling black armor without the least bit of shame. "I intend it to be as little as possible."

Wing purred, lifting a hand to stroke down the back of Drift's helm and down along his back plates, as if stroking a pet. "Just make sure to figure out exactly when to duck," he told the white mech, ignoring Redline's exasperated/annoyed huff.

"You got off lightly for a mech who tangled with Dai Atlas. I'll be expecting to find you being hauled in here with much more damage than that if he's going to be training you," the medic informed Drift tartly. "Now scram!"

Drift held back what he knew, that he'd survived worse, and wrapped his arms around Wing's neck and pressed close. It was as ready as he'd ever be for takeoff.


	6. Needing Release

Wing was getting decidedly twitchy.

It had been a decaorn since Drift had begun formal Knight training and reluctantly accepted as an Initiate of the Circle of Shadow. His bondmate spent the majority of every orn in the training rooms with Dai Atlas and Axe, interspersed with sometimes lengthy stays in Redline's medical bay depending on how much damage he took. The rest of the time Drift was usually out cold on their berth. Rarely did he have the energy left over for interfacing.

During the several metacycles Drift had been in the hidden city of the Knights, Wing had gotten spoiled. He was used to being pounced on and very thoroughly fragged every time Drift spotted an opportunity. Now, going for orns on end without being touched was making Wing twitchy. He desperately wanted release, but Drift wasn't up for it more often than not.

He heard the distinctive hum of Thorn's engines coming in for a landing shortly before the jet called out. "Hay Wing, ready for some fun?"

"Define 'fun'," Wing drawled, lazily rolling onto his back and looking at Thorn upside-down. This was a possibility. Thorn had been his first interface and a periodic lover ever since.

"Finding a toy to play with for the day," he chuckled, flashing the credit ID in his forearm. "You need an overload _bad_ , my friend."

"Tell me something I don't already know," the smaller dark jet grumped, practically oozing off the berth as he got to his pedes. "My creators are keeping my pet in training most of the orn, and by the time they let him go he's too exhausted for me to play with."

"Ah, poor Wing," Thorn oozed false sympathy and draped an arm over Wing's shoulders. "Not as much fun when he can't respond?"

"Not nearly," was the reply, Wing somehow managing to look down his nose at Thorn despite being the shorter of the pair. "Have someone in mind this time, or just pounce on the first mecha to catch your optic?"

"Oh, I have the prettiest little femme in mind," Thorn laughed, half dragging his friend towards the balcony. "Just about to upgrade to her final frame. She's very good at what you need."

"Oh, really." Wing let out a throaty purr, stepping out onto the balcony and warming up his engines for takeoff. He had to maintain an appearance of normalcy around Thorn. "Where?"

"She should just be on shift at The Larret," Thorn purred, letting go to take off. "We can catch her show, then pick her up for some fun."

"Lead the way." Wing stretched out his wings, lifting off and lazily looping above the balcony before following the other jet away from the Citadel down into the city towards one of Thorn's favored spots when he was more inclined to pay for services instead of putting out the effort of seducing or drugging a berth-warmer.

The two black jets swooped in an easy circle towards the upscale club that focused on stage dancers that gave the occasional lap dance or private party. One of the few places in the city where a Knight of Shadow could walk without being unduly stared at. When your boss was a Knight, seeing others from the order just wasn't as startling as it was elsewhere.

Wing had been to this club before, both with Thorn and on his own. Setting down, he folded his wings and walked inside, nodding to the few mecha he knew. Pausing inside, he waited for Thorn to pick a place to sit, glancing toward the main stage where a well-built grounder a bit larger than Drift was making a display of himself befitting the status of this club as one of the better ones. Knights invariably had plenty of credits and were fairly free to part with them. Between the volatility of their leader and master's deadly temper and the relaxed certainty that they would never be hungry or in need of paying for repairs, few had much reason to amass a large savings. Existence was very much about enjoying every moment that wasn't training, chores or penance.

The taller jet motioned him to a table that focused on a side stage where a sleek young femme of pale pink with white and silver trim and large warm blue optics commanded the stage and audience around her as if it was her spark right.

"That's her, I take it." Wing looked the femme over admiringly. "You were right; she is a pretty one."

Drift was handsomer, in Wing's opinion, but that little tidbit he kept to himself.

"That's Grace," Thorn answered with a bit of a dreamy stare. "If you think she's good on stage, wait until you feel her other skills."

Wing hummed. "Looking forward to it." He settled back to watch the femme as a server came by with the jet high grade they both preferred, taking payment with a quick swipe of Thorn's credit ID before moving on. "I bet her price is just as impressive."

"She's worth it," Thorn purred, optics following her as her set ended and she moved on to giving lap dances to a couple customers who were willing to pay while the next femme took the stage. "You'll see."

"As long as she's not wearing a red collar." Wing took a drink of his energon, keeping an optic on the femme. "I remember what happened the last time."

"Still have scars from it," Thorn muttered, his wings shivering in memory of just how vicious and _creative_ Master Shogun was in protecting his small harem. "No, she's not one of his. I've bought her time before and still have my wings."

"Always a good idea to make sure." Wing tilted his helm to get a better look at the femme.

Thorn purred as she finished her last lap dance and sauntered over to the black jets, leaning in close to Thorn, her field teasing his seductively. "Here for a private dance, handsome?"

"You know it," Thorn rumbled and stood. "Wing's joining us. His pet's been too tired to tend to him lately."

Wing's golden optics roamed over the femme's pale frame, the dark jet letting out a soft chirr. "Hello there, lovely," he purred, fluttering his wings at her.

"Hello handsome," she purred, her field reaching out to caress his, rich with arousal and desire. Light armor and elegant doorwings fluttered at them as she turned to lead them to a private room.

Wing trailed after her and Thorn, carefully shielding his end of the bond with Drift to avoid distracting the white mech. When facing down Dai Atlas, distraction could be fatal. Pits, even if it was Axe right now, it wouldn't be much better. Even as he sent a small prayer of thanks to Primus that his mate had earned some kind of acceptance, and thus protection, from Axe, he worried. So many Knight Initiates never survived.

He chased the thought away as the bond closed as much as he could manage and turned his full attention to Grace and the small room with a comfortable berth, a couple small shelves for cubes near it and enough space for her to dance if her client wanted a show before the touching began.

"A dance first?" she twirled in the middle of the open space, her gaze resting on Wing. "Or an overload so you can enjoy it?"

Wing's response was a purring chuckle. "Overload." He stretched, fluttering his wings, golden optics watching the femme intently. The dark jet was desperate for release and they could all feel it.

With a smile she glided to him, a light touch guiding him to the berth. "Tell me what you want, handsome," she purred, her field dancing along his entire frame as her hands slid down his chest.

Wing sauntered over to the berth, settling onto it, watching her. "Your lips on my spike," he purred back. "Want you to suck me off."

Without hesitation she slid her hands along his upper legs and knelt between his knees. She leaned forward to kiss his spike cover, flicking her glossa out to taste his charge.

Wing watched through half-lidded optics, making a throaty purr as his spike cover released. His spike practically popped out, already gleaming with lubricants.

"Oh, you really are needy," she cooed in sympathy as she kissed her way up the hard length. "Your pet should be punished for ignoring your needs," she added before taking the tip between her lips and licking playfully at the slit.

"I would punish him if he was able to remain conscious long enough for it to do any good," the dark jet drawled, his hips pressing toward her. A rumble of pleasure crossed Wing's lips at the lick.

A flicker of sympathy for both of them caressed Wing before she took him all the way down. Her glossa stroked the underside as her intake squeezed and stroked the tip.

"Yessssssssss," the dark jet hissed, his hips rolling, thrusting lightly into her mouth. "Oh, yesssssssss." One hand flexed against the berth surface, the other coming to rest on her helm as she slowly began to bob. Lips, suction, a skilled glossa and flexing intake worked every bit of his spike with a wanton relish that Drift could never manage. Oh, his white mate was good, he was _skilled_ , but he couldn't enjoy it fully yet. There was too much abuse intended to hurt in his past. It would take centuries, if not millennia, to fully train him out of his inherent reluctance to service a spike, even Wing's.

This little creature loved what she was doing and the difference was intense.

Dark wings twitched against the berth, one unfolding partway. Wing let out a soft moan, rolling his hips, thrusting into Grace's mouth. He didn't think he'd last very long, but it would be very enjoyable. He felt her smile around his shaft and suddenly a very high performance engine was directly attached to her chassis, causing her to vibrate. Instead of humming, she cycled the RPMs on her engine.

The dark jet's optics flared nearly white as the stimulation proved too much. A howl erupted from Wing's vocalizer as he overloaded hard, his whole body jolting on the berth. Hot transfluid spilled down her intake as she continued to work him until the peak passed, only to disengage her engine and slowly draw her helm up, licking him clean as she went.

"Damn, I'd forgotten how steaming _hot_ you are that revved up," Thorn rumbled, his field nearly cracking with charge.

Wing snorted, laying flat for a moment before sitting up again. "I needed that so bad..." The dark jet stretched, venting hot air, lifting an optic rim at Thorn.

"What about your valve and my spike, while we watch her dance ... and show off like she won't on the public stage," Thorn purred, leaning close and letting Wing feel how hot he was.

"Sounds good," Wing purred, flaring his nacelle pinions at the larger jet, one dark wing flicking at Thorn. He shifted over to give Thorn a little more room, reaching out to trace one of the glowing markings on the taller but lighter mech's armor.

"Roll over my pretty," Thorn grinned at him and motioned towards the pole Grace was now leaning back against, fluttering slender psudo-wings. "You'll want to watch her, not me."

Wing snorted, flicking his wing at Thorn before changing position, his golden optics fixing on the pale pink femme as she began to move, her warm blue optics focused on the black jets as they made a display of their own.

Thorn covered his fellow Knight, rubbing his entire frame along Wing's back before giving him a sharp nip on the neck.

Wing responded with a rough purr, arching his back, pressing his haunches back into Thorn. He kneaded the berth surface, watching the femme as she moved, following the lines of her frame. Dark wings wiggled against Thorn's chest. The smaller jet's valve cover opened invitingly, lubricant leaking out to puddle on the berth as he shifted one leg out of the way to give the larger jet more room.

"So wanton," Thorn moaned, shifting to sink his spike into that incredible slickness, his deep red optics on Grace as he began to thrust.

The smaller jet echoed the moan, pressing his chest against the berth and arching back into Thorn, rocking into each thrust. His nacelles revved, pinions vibrating as they flared and settled. Golden optics were practically glued to the femme, watching her move. It was a delicious combination of physical stimulation and visual feast, and if he wanted to, he could do nothing, just lay here with his aft in the air and _enjoy_.

Above him, Thorn bit down on his collar strut and thrust harder, grunting as his charge spiraled higher.

Wing hissed softly, wriggling against Thorn. His engines revved higher, vibrating through his frame. Dark wings flailed out of their lazy tuck, scraping lightly against Thorn's chestplate. The dark glass of Wing's cockpit scraped on the berth as he shifted, rocking back into each thrust to take Thorn's spike in deeper.

It felt _so good_.

Thorn growled, bit and thrust, his hips moving faster and harder as he came close to his peak. Grace danced, making love to the pole and herself as she slowly removed pieces of armor to expose her protoform to them.

Wing made a soft keening sound, leaning into Thorn, his armor scraping against the larger mech's. His optics were fixed on Grace, watching her every move, briefly tracking discarded pieces of armor before returning to her exposed frame. He'd never seen a protoform before, other than his own before he went under after a brutal crash.

It was ... different. Erotic to a part of his programming that was deeply ingrained to his interfacing protocols.

The smaller of the two jets was fascinated, as much of his attention fixed on the femme as on the other Knight. His golden gaze skipped over her exposed protoform, taking in all the details he could see. The strangest part was watching the millions of microfilaments that transferred sensation and data to and from the armor release their grip and slither into her protoform.

What would it feel like, to touch that directly? To be touched like that.

His valve quivered at the thought. In Drift, he had someone who might just be willing to explore than, just a bit, once they had properly secured and outfitted their hideaway. Maybe an arm or something that wasn't spark threatening to loose sooner. Just to find out.

Above him, Thorn moaned, his thrusts picking up and field warning of just how close he was.

Wing carefully tagged that line of thought for later consideration, or maybe to run past Drift when his mate could stay conscious long enough to actually respond. It was definitely something he wanted to investigate.

The jet made a sound that was part moan, part hiss, bracing his palms against the berth and pressing himself back into each thrust. Golden optics brightened as his own charge rose, his field pulsing against Thorn's. That contact was nearly as arousing as the slide of spike, the charge feeding on itself, on the physical, on the visual, on the imagination. 

It wasn't long before Thorn growled, then grunted with each deep thrust that surged transfluid deep into Wing's valve.

Wing overloaded with a keen, his valve clamping down on Thorn's spike, his frame trembling under the other jet's. Dark wings almost flopped open, twitching all the way to the tips. Wing's optics never left Grace's undulating form as she performed for them, her own warm blue optics locked on the black pair as they lost track of her briefly in their ecstasy.

His whole body twitching, Wing sank down onto the berth, a few wisps of steam escaping from various vents. The air shimmered over his frame as heat escaped from under slightly fluffed armor. Golden optics flickered a few times before their glow steadied, though it took a klik or so longer for the dark jet to actually be able to focus properly.

"She's hot stuff, isn't she?" Thorn whispered in his audial.

"She is," Wing replied, stretching under Thorn, his back plating and loosely folded wings sliding against the taller mech's chestplate as they settled, sprawling lazily on the luxurious berth and watched her show.

"I bet you never had one who'd strip down for you," he chuckled as the dance came to an end and she glided towards them.

"And you'd be right about that," was the reply, Wing's optics brightening as the femme approached them. "Seeing that was a first for me."

"Then you are in for several memorable experiences," Grace smiled seductively as she relaxed onto the berth next to them, one hand coming to stroke Thorn's back while she leaned in to kiss Wing, her glossa licking out to stroke his lip plates.

Wing opened his mouth into the kiss, one hand coming up to lightly skim over her exposed protoform, savoring the different textures. "I look forward to it."

He nearly squeaked into the kiss when the monofilament cilia reached out to caress his fingers, zapping him with the direct connection to her systems. Golden optics flashed with surprise, his hand jerking back reflexively. A moment later he reached out again, this time not pulling back from the contact as the nearly microscopic attachment points crawled and danced along his armor.

"Now imagine that all along your frame," she cooed throatily.

Dark wings fluttered slightly. "Interesting," he purred, shifting closer, bringing more of his dark armor into contact with her protoform and the deliciously unique sensations. He was absently aware of Thorn shifting off his back to settle on Grace's far side, but his focus was on the femme between them as her hands moved along his frame, every tiny contact point between them alive with energy.

The dark jet writhed slightly as the intense sensations swept through his sensor net. He'd never experienced anything like this before and was determined to experience as much of it as possible. It didn't hurt that he wasn't the one paying credits for such a pro's attentions. Oh, sure, he'd pay for it later in the form of a favor to Thorn, but right now, he was just too happy to indulge as fully as he could manage.


	7. Trading on Secrets

Thorn carefully folded his golden wings against his back in submission without overt fear before he pinged Axe's office, the true center of power among the Knights and the city, for a meeting he had politely requested.

It took a moment for the door to slide open. Blue optics fixed on Thorn's deep ruby, the black mech inside the office fixing his full attention on Thorn as the slender jet walked inside with the smooth glide that personified his nature.

Thorn bowed deeply to the true power behind the throne.

Axe steepled his fingers, regarding the jet for a moment. "You requested a meeting with me. For what purpose?"

"To propose a trade, Master Axe," Thorn spoke respectfully. "Intel for a special dispensation."

"Intel? Something that I _don't_ already know about, in the Citadel?" Blue optics narrowed. "And what is this 'special dispensation' you're after?"

"I believe you are not aware of this intel, Master Axe," Thorn said differentially, opening himself up to being wrong. "I wish to have a pet, Master Axe."

A dark optic rim lifted. "You are aware that it is forbidden for Knights to keep pets, correct?"

"Yes, Master Axe," Thorn said evenly.

"It would have to be a very valuable piece if intel for me to grant you special dispensation to keep a pet," Axe continued, watching Thorn intently.

"I believe it is, Master Axe," the slender jet replied. "If I am wrong, you will withdraw the special dispensation and I will suffer for it."

The black triple changer nodded slowly. "If you are wrong, the penance will be very severe and any pet you possess will be taken from you. If you are correct, and this is something that I do not already know, then you make find and keep your pet."

"Agreed, Master Axe," Thorn steadied himself and quietly prayed he had read everyone correctly. "Your creation has bonded to his former pet, Drift."

It was not very often that Axe was taken by surprise. The last time anything had truly shocked him had been a long time ago. But this, _this_ shocked him as nothing had in millennia.

Blue optics widened, fixing on Thorn with the intensity of a laser as Axe slowly rose to his feet, leaning on his desk. " _What_?"

Thorn shrank back slightly. "Wing is bonded to Drift, Master Axe."

"How do you know this, and are you certain of this information?" Blazing optics narrowed to thin slits as he felt a pressure against his own bond, Dai Atlas responding to his shock with a wordless question.

"I have watched, Master Axe. Wing reacts when Drift is injured as if it is on his own frame. He can find Drift without any comm. He knows when Drift is in trouble even when it's impossible to know." He explained, ready to go into specific events if it was demanded. "I have not seen their sparks, but there is no other explanation in the archives for what Wing _knows_ to be happening."

Slowly, the bigger mech lowered himself back into his chair. He was a bonded mech himself, so he knew how a bond worked and what it could do. "This... I did not know." He chewed on that for a long moment, looking back over all the interactions he had witnessed between Drift and Wing. "You may have your pet. But, if this information proves to be false, the punishment will be severe."

"I understand, Master Axe," Thorn bowed deeply. "I will report the identity of my pet once I capture her."

Axe nodded absently. "Then go."

* * *

The roar rattled the Citadel, startling most of the mecha inside.

Dai Atlas had been going about business as usual, having finished the day's training session with Drift a couple of joors earlier. The Knight leader had managed to refrain from mauling the white mech this time. He had been on his way back to his quarters when he became aware of thoughts, mutterings, leaking through the bond he shared with his mate.

That was unusual. Normally Axe kept his thoughts shielded and to himself. Flaring his armor slightly, Dai Atlas listened in.

What he heard was "Wing", "Drift", and "bonded". That was enough to stop him in his tracks for an instant.

" ** _Drift!_** " came out a bellow that sent every sane mech, and most of the insane ones, diving for the nearest hidey-hole. Just because they weren't the target didn't make it any safer to be caught by the giant on a rampage.

Knights scattered like turbo-mice, bolting for the nearest bit of cover. Optics peered out from every hiding place and from under anything a determined mech could squeeze under.

In a higher level of the Citadel's residence tower, Wing had been sprawled out next to Drift on their berth, watching his mate sleep and shifting restlessly, when he heard that roar. It startled him so much his turbines fired, sending right off the berth and almost right into the ceiling. Armor on end, he landed next to the berth, audial flares flat to the sides of his helm and optics as wide as they could go without shattering.

"Oh, slag," the dark jet whispered as his mate looked around blearily.

"Wha?" Drift looked up at him, trying to figure out just what had dragged him so abruptly from desperately needed recharge.

Wing's armor was slicked to his frame, nacelle pinions completely flattened, wings folded down so close the metal could be heard creaking. Wing wasn't just freaked out, he was _terrified_.

Spinning around, the dark jet pounced on his white mate, wrapping his arms tightly around Drift's frame. "Hold on tight!"

With the trust that came from their bond Drift wrapped his arms around his mate and did as he was told. Wing's state was enough to still his questions for the moment.

Wing's wings flared out, the dark jet taking off the moment Drift firmly had hold of him. Another armor-rattling bellow erupted from inside the Citadel, sending every airframe Knight who hadn't already gone into hiding airborne and scattering in every direction.

"Oh slag oh slag oh slag!" Clinging more tightly to Drift, Wing raced for the caverns as fast as he could go while carrying a passenger. He was making a beeline for the hideout Drift had found, and which Wing himself had started building in his free time.

Drift held on, silent as to not distract Wing as the dark jet darted through tunnels at full speed. He simply held on for dear life, now fully aware and ready to fight despite critically low energy levels and an interrupted defrag cycle.

Wing wasn't sure why, but Dai Atlas was beyond furious at Drift at _something_. What it was, he didn't know, but his instincts, honed by long exposure to Dai Atlas' temper, were telling him that if the Knight leader got anywhere near Drift, his mate was scrap.

"Almost there..." Wing drew in his wings as much as he could without crashing as the tunnels narrowed, now too small to admit a mech much larger than the jet himself, and cut into rock too hard for Dai Atlas' drill tank form to cut through. Fortunately, the blue mech had all but completely forgotten about his second alt mode.

Spotting their destination up ahead, Wing slowed down, not wanting to run into the doors he'd installed (and what fun that had been). Landing in front of them, he quickly keyed in the access code, slipping inside and locking the doors after them.

"We're here. Safe," he whispered to his mate, nuzzling the white helm and slowly loosening his grip on Drift.

"Where's ... here?" Drift asked as he worked to gather his wits after the harrowing flight. "And why?"

Wing purred softly. "This is the cavern you discovered, the one you said would work well as a hideout. I've... done some work on it since. There's not much here _yet_ , but there's a berth where you can rest, and I've stashed some energon here, too." The dark jet's wings rattled. "As for the why... Dai Atlas is in a killing fury. I don't know why, but he's beyond enraged at you. If he had caught you, he would have killed you, and probably me as well."

Drift scowled, trying to think of what had happened. "Today actually went fairly well." Then he shrugged, and leaned against his mate, welcoming the warmth and support to stop him from swaying. "Not that sense ever had much to do with that mech's mood. He's crazier than Megs. How long until he calms down?"

"I'm honestly not sure." Wing helped Drift over to the berth he'd brought to the cavern, curling up with him. "I've never seen him this angry. It might take a while... But at least he can't reach us here."

Drift murmured a hum of acceptance, his systems already shutting back down as he snuggled close. Only half conscious, he reached around Wing's back to slide his fingers down Challenger of Ways' thick blade. ~We're strong enough to use them if need be.~

~We are,~ the dark jet crooned in response, curling himself around Drift and spreading a wing over him possessively. He knew they'd have to venture back to the Citadel eventually, but for now they were safe.

* * *

Wing could feel that Drift was stewing and had been for some time as they shared a careful ration more than two days later.

The dark jet tilted his helm at his mate. "There's something on your mind, I can tell."

"I know you aren't keen on the idea of leaving, but out there," he waved in the general direction of up, "might be a good idea. That or taking out your creators."

Golden optics went wide. "Out? Leaving? But..." The dark jet left the city whenever he felt trapped by the overhanging stone ceiling, but never had he ever considered not coming back. Dark pinions flared as the second half of the comment registered. "Take them out? But... they're my creators! Yes, Dai Atlas is insane, but he's still my sire!"

Drift grumbled wordlessly before focusing on trying to use reason. "Being your creator is no excuse for taking abuse from him. You _saw_ what I lived through, what existence _can_ be. What shouldn't be accepted."

"He's family," Wing whispered. "Insane and violent as he is, he's family. I can't leave him. Nor can I do anything to get rid of him." Wide golden optics rose to fix on Drift's pale blue.

The white grounder x-vented deeply. "He's no different than Megatron."

"He raised me and he trained me," the dark jet responded. "This is his city. He's my _sire_." Wing trembled slightly at the thought of leaving his home city, or losing his creators, vicious as Dai Atlas could be.

"And when he kills me?" Drift looked up, his side of the bond unnaturally smooth about the prospect.

There was a long moment of silence. "I won't let him," Wing informed his mate fiercely. "But I can't kill him!"

A light caress of support crossed the bond. "I can. I have no problem killing him. If you permit me."

"No," Wing whispered, looking pleadingly into Drift's optics. "I can't. I just... can't." His dark-armored body trembled with distress.

"All right," Drift sighed deeply and reached over to draw Wing against him, nuzzling the dark helm. "Unless he's honestly trying to kill me, I won't try to kill him."

"Axe will keep him under control," Wing said with some certainty. He wasn't _quite_ sure how, but Axe did manage to keep Dai Atlas from getting too out of hand. The dark jet leaned against his mate, turning off his optics and sighing softly.

"What about leaving?" Drift murmured. "You know it can be a good existence and I know what I'm doing, how to survive out there."

"Your ship was hauled in and stripped for the metal," Wing pointed out. Dark wings fluttered nervously. "I might leave the city to fly... But I always come back. To leave the planet entirely, even if there was a way..." He shivered at the very thought. Yet it also stung to feel the resigned disappointment and longing in Drift.

"Right," Drift murmured with a fresh wash of disappointment that was quickly squashed. 

Wing clung to his mate, nuzzling against him. Leaving the city for a few joors, he could do. But he always came home. Leaving the city forever was not something he wanted to contemplate.

"I guess I found something that scares you," Drift said softly, somehow not really proud of the accomplishment.

"For a mech who's never even contemplated leaving home for good, yes, the thought is terrifying." Somehow Wing managed to slip under Drift's arm and settle against his side.

"For a mech who's home has only ever been another mech, it's not easy to understand," Drift admitted, his field welcoming Wing close.

They both jumped, swords drawn, when a heavy knock echoed from the door.

"Who is there?" Wing demanded, sidling toward the door with both plasma swords drawn and activated. He had a good idea of who it _couldn't_ be, as they couldn't fit into the tunnels. But that still left a long list of who it could be.

The dark jet edged over to a monitor beside the door, connected to a small camera outside of the door, and looked at the image on the display.

The soft glow of red lines on a black frame liberally decorated with gold and a silver face looked back as the intruder called out. "It's Thorn. Open up."

Wing debated for a moment, then cautiously opened the door. One swordblade poked out before Thorn could move, Wing checking the tunnels for any other mechs before withdrawing his blade. As soon as Thorn was inside, the door was shut and locked.

"Paranoid much?" the tall Knight raised an optic ridge at him.

"Only when there's reason to be," Wing replied, walking back over to Drift and leaning against the white grounder's shoulder. "Why are you here?"

"Seems this little den of yours blocks comms," Thorn glowered. "So Axe charged me to track you down and tell you to get your aft back to the Citadel and explain things to him."

"With Dai Atlas howling for Drift's energon?" Wing bristled. "What's he so angry about? What did Drift _do_ \- or what does Dai Atlas _think_ he did - to make him that enraged?"

"Dai Atlas hasn't been howling for most of a day. Just don't ask how Axe got him to settle down. I have no clue," golden veined wings fluttered. "Something about bonding without permission."

Drift groaned from the berth.

Dark wings and pinions stood on end, reflecting Wing's shock. "Bonding? What the slag has he been into this time? Has he gotten into your assorted potions?"

Scrambling to get his mental feet back under him, Wing went with the simplest of deflection tactics: playing dumb.

Thorn shook his helm. "Axe saw the same things I did, and I doubt it's just us," he said quietly. "Your creators aren't the only bonded mecha in the order."

Across their bond, Wing felt Drift's panic bloom, right along with fear. On the jet trails of that came a grim, violent determination.

Wing bristled, flaring his wings. "I won't let them hurt him." He moved to place himself between Thorn and Drift, glaring at the taller mech.

"Axe isn't asking for _him_ to show up and explain," Thorn x-vented. "It's your wings you need to be worried about right now."

The smaller jet's optics narrowed as he considered that. Then he vented heavily, pinions lowering closer to his nacelles. "If I don't go, he'll probably send someone to drag me back." Golden optics turned to Drift. "I have to go face Axe...You'll be safe here. No one else knows where this place is."

Drift's engine rumbled as the bond flooded with a wordless threat to any mecha who brought harm to Wing. That loyalty and protectiveness didn't go one way.

"They won't find out from me," Thorn added voluntarily, motioning for Wing to open the door. "Want me to stay?"

"Think you can keep your distance from my bondmate?" Wing countered, narrowing his optics at Thorn. 

Deep red optics rolled in exasperation. "In case you hadn't noticed, I happen to like my wings attached to my frame."

"And his spark attached to his frame," Drift added with a quirk of a grin that wasn't at all comforting to anyone but Wing.

After a moment Wing's gaze moved to Drift. "Would you want him to stay here with you?"

"Not really," Drift shrugged a spaulder. "I'm good with waiting alone."

The dark jet leaned over to rub his cheek against Drift's, letting out a soft purr, before going to open the door and gesture for Thorn to leave.

~I'll be back as soon as I can,~ Wing promised through the bond.

~You'd better come back soon, and in one piece,~ Drift grabbed his helm to claim a fierce kiss before letting Wing go.

~I will do my best,~ Wing purred, returning the kiss before following Thorn out and locking the door behind him.

Once the tunnels were wide enough for Wing to spread his wings all the way, he lifted off, flying through the tunnels out into the city cavern, toward the Citadel.

::So you really are bonded?:: Thorn asked.

::Yes,:: Wing responded, not at all happy about having to admit something he'd been keeping secret for the better part of a vorn.

There was a bit of silence as Thorn processed that.

::Why?:: he finally asked. ::When?::

::Since a decaorn after I brought him into the city,:: was the response. ::His spark resonates perfectly with mine. That's what drew me to him, and him to me. My spark all but crawled out of its casing to meet his.::

::Wow,:: was about all Thorn could respond with. His processor was still spinning when they landed. As much as he didn't want to miss out on the conversation to come, he wasn't keen on being near Axe again soon either.

Wing flared out his armor, shaking his wings before folding them tightly to his back. Steeling himself, he opened a comm line to Axe, wondering where the large black triple changer was.

::My office,:: came the blunt reply.

Wing didn't need to know what the subject was to know his saner creator was not happy in a very big way.

::Coming.:: Wing took a moment to steel his nerves, then made his way to his creator's office, wings folded so tightly they ached.

Slowly, the dark jet made his way to Axe's office. He hesitated outside for a moment, then chimed for admittance. The door slid open, revealing Axe and his sharp blue gaze and his silent motion to enter.

Wing entered the office, hearing the door hiss shut behind him. Golden optics met sharp blue, the dark jet keeping back far enough to give himself a chance to get away of Axe went for him.

"Well?" Axe locked his gaze on his young creation. "You know why you were called here."

"I have a good idea," Wing agreed, shifting his pedes. "Drift. Bonded."

"When?" Axe prompted, keeping a grip on his emotions as tight as a black hole did on matter.

Wing shifted again, his wings riffling nervously against his back plating. "Since a decaorn after I brought him back from the surface." He sucked in a draught of air and shrank back at the way his creator's self-control shattered and the black giant puffed up. "It wasn't exactly planned." He tried to calm Axe with debatable results.

"How in the _Pit_ did you bond without planning it?"

The dark jet pressed his back against the wall, his armor slicked down. "Drift and I... We have perfect spark resonance. It was only meant to be a spark merge. But our sparks had other ideas, and they overruled anything our processors had to say on the matter."

"I'm bonded, remember?" Axe growled, his optics flashing. "It doesn't work like that. Did he force you?"

"No, he did not force me," Wing replied. "My spark _wanted_ it. It almost crawled right out of its casing to reach Drift's."

Fingers steepled before Axe's face. "If it is indeed spark resonance, Redline can confirm it."

"True." Wing's optics narrowed. "Drift won't be harmed if he returns to the Citadel?" He wasn't going to bring Drift back unless he was _sure_ his mate would not be harmed by anyone.

" _If_ this is indeed spark resonance to the extent that you say, you have my word," Axe went further than Wing had ever expected. "Drift will suffer no harm for this event. Even Knights are subject to the will of Primus."

Wing all but sagged in relief. "Thank you," he murmured. ~Lover of mine?~

~You seem ... relieved.~ Drift responded cautiously.

"However," Axe's hard tone made Wing freeze. "If I learn that you have not spoken the full truth, you will both be punished _most_ severely."

Wing cringed, but nodded. ~Axe says that if Redline can prove that we do have spark resonance, then you won't be harmed.~

"I understand," the dark jet replied aloud.

~And you won't be either?~ Drift pressed.

~That...he didn't say much about,~ Wing admitted. ~It could go either way.~ One wing shifted against his back.

"Is there anything you wish to add in your defense?" Axe asked, his optics still narrow and turbulent.

"If Redline confirms that Drift and I are spark resonants, Drift won't be harmed... What about me?" Wing dared ask, easing closer to the door just in case. "We weren't intending to bond, but it happened and that can't be changed."

"You did not report your condition, even to Redline," Axe growled softly. "Drift, at the time, was your property. Nothing was expected of him. You," he glared at his creation, " _you_ knew better. You have a price to pay for your deceit."

Wing pulled his helm as far down as he could, hunching his shoulders. The dark jet nodded, looking down at the floor. "I apologize... and I accept my punishment." He just hoped it wouldn't require him to spend four orns being repaired.

~I will have to undergo a penance for failing to report the bond,~ he reluctantly admitted to Drift. ~It's _you_ I'm more worried about. I don't want you hurt.~

~Is Axe good for his word?~ Drift pressed, pissed but accepting of a penance for the failure. That, at least, was a standard he knew from before.

~He is,~ Wing confirmed. ~Once Redline confirms that we do have spark resonance, no one will harm you.~ He sent assurance and love along the bond.

~Then I'm coming in,~ Drift said firmly. ~Let's get this over with.~

~I'll be waiting for you,~ Wing replied, then blinked to refocus and looked back to Axe. "Drift is on his way."

"Good," Axe considered his wayward creation with a glower, only to soften with a deep sigh. "Has he been good to you?"

"He has," the dark jet answered. "Very good." There was a hint of a purr in his voice for a moment.

"Even since he began training?" Axe prodded. "A bond that old can't be broken, but there _are_ ways to mitigate the effects."

"When he's conscious enough, anyway," Wing replied. "He does make a nice pillow to cuddle up against. But yes, even then."

"Have you learned how to block each other out yet?" Axe rubbed a spot between his optics above his nasal ridge.

"Yes. He and I both block the bond while he's in training with you and Dai Atlas, to keep from distracting each other. It became necessary after the first few times he ended up in Redline's medbay." Wing's wings flared out at the memory.

Axe hummed, a soft harmonic of approval. "Your training was no kinder."

"Of that I'm aware," Wing responded. He tilted his helm, tuning into the bond, optics going slightly out of focus. ~I'm in Axe's office, love.~

"We will meet him in Redline's office," Axe said as he rose and motioned Wing to follow.

~We're heading to the medbay, come meet us there,~ Wing relayed to Drift, adding a mental caress and a purr. Then he obediently followed Axe out of the office, keeping just out of grabbing range. No matter how gentle his creator was behaving, which in itself was odd, this was still Master Axe and a mecha to be feared.

A sense of confirmation came back from Drift before the walk descended into silence to the medical wing of the Citadel of Shadow.

One thing Wing had learned about Axe was that the black mech was not a gentle mech by any stretch of the imagination. Wing wasn't sure why he was acting that way now, but he kept one optic on his creator just in case.

In the medical wing, Redline poked his helm out of his office as they entered, a scowl on his face. The expression evaporated when he saw _who_ had entered his domain, and the medic emerged from the office.

"It seems my creation has bonded," Axe tried not to growl as he motioned at the small black jet. "He is claiming spark resonance."

Wing eased around his creator, keeping warily out of reach, and approached the medic. Redline eyed him for a moment. "I'm assuming he's bonded to that white grounder, Drift." 

"I am." Wing raised his helm proudly.

Redline harrumphed. "Well, we'll soon know for sure if there is spark resonance or not. Where is Drift?"

"Here," said mech's deep rumble cut through the tension with his customary lack of fear.

Wing perked up visibly, his optics brightening as he turned to his mate. Redline glowered at both of them, then waved them toward the med tables. 

"On the tables," the medic growled. "I'm going to have to run scans on your sparks to find out if you actually do have spark resonance."

The pair complied without question, though now that the secret was out, Drift took the opening to caress his mate before they separated. Wing chirred in response, leaning in for a quick nuzzle before a low growl from either Redline or Axe got him moving, hopping onto one of the tables. Dark wings shifted. Wing _hated_ having to crack his chest armor for medical exams at the best of times, and this was not the best of times.

Axe watched, glowering, but held quiet and still, out of the way.

Redline walked over, readying his equipment before turning his scowl onto Wing. The dark jet gave him a matching glower, then reluctantly parted his chestplates to reveal his spark, clearly bearing a darker red tint. The medic made careful note of the color as he ran the scans, comparing them from memory to previous times. Then he turned to Drift, who was less reluctant to part his armor, but in this moment seemed far more dangerous. While Redline didn't have any untainted scans of Drift's spark energy, he could extrapolate it easily enough.

"Have you bonded before?" Redline focused on Drift, who shook his helm and closed his chest armor, once more concealing the deep red-orange spark.

Redline looked from one to the other, then hooked his scanners up to the medical computer and began evaluating the results. After the better part of a breem looking over the data, the red and white medic grunted, stepping aside and looking over at Axe.

"There is the answer, Master Axe. They do have spark resonance, and it's closer resonance than anything I've ever seen before." Redline waved to the information on the screen.

"And this could not be the result of the bond?" the black giant asked as he studied the readouts. Even with his limited knowledge he could see the near-perfect harmonic between the two readings.

Redline shook his helm. He brought up another set of data, comparing it to Wing's current readings. "Wing's spark readings were the same before he and Drift bonded. This scan was taken two vorns ago, well before Drift came."

Axe huffed, grumbled wordlessly and glared at the pair before focusing on Redline. "Do whatever you need to in order to ensure they don't kindle by accident."

The medic nodded to the black triple changer. "It will be done."

"Wing, you will report to me for your penance when Redline is done with you. Drift, you will report to me for your penance for missing your training," Axe glared at the pair.

Wing nodded, folding his wings tighter to his back. He was not looking forward to it, but it had to be done. Across the bond Drift tried to sooth him even as he inclined his helm towards Axe in acceptance of his own orders.

Redline headed for a side chamber to retrieve some equipment, then headed for the table Wing occupied.

"I was under the impression that kindling required intent," Drift watched the medic sharply as Axe left.

"There have been cases where a spark was accidentally created," Redline responded, not looking up from what he was doing in Wing's chest. The dark jet's wings were squirming, though otherwise he remained still. He _hated_ having the medic poking around in there. "Given your story is that the bond wasn't intentional, it does increase the odds of something else unintentional happening."

Drift fell silent, watching what was happening to Wing and offering silent support to his mate. "What are you doing?"

"Installing a regulator that will prevent a newspark from forming," Redline answered absently, able to lie about the exact mechanism smoothly after so long. He'd been installing them under orders often enough. He paused and glared down at the black jet. "Will you stop twitching?"

Wing glared. "You're poking around in my chest. How can I _not_ twitch?" he shot back.

Armor flared with a low rumble and Redline reached up to drop Wing into stasis without warning. "He's _fine_ ," he snarled at Drift without looking at the Knight Initiate. He didn't have to look to know the white grounder was about to launch himself. "I can beat you to a puddle of fluids too, you know."

Drift growled at him but held still.

Redline gave silent thanks to whatever medic had trained him to behave and finished working on Wing before letting him out of stasis.

As soon as he was out of stasis Wing was off the table and with his armor closed. He glared daggers at the medic. "You know how much I _hate_ it when you do that."

"Live with it," Redline snapped at him, turning toward Drift. The grounder glared but settled and obediently opened his chest to be worked on.

Unlike Wing, however, Drift knew how to be still and pay attention to what was happening after so many vorns under Decepticon medical care. You simply didn't let Hook work on you unsupervised, and you were the only one worth trusting to do the supervising.

Despite Axe's orders, Wing remained in the medbay waiting for Redline to finish with Drift. He glared at the medic's back the whole time, though Redline ignored him completely. Once the red and white was finished, the dark jet edged over to his mate, reaching out to take his hand. He was promptly pulled onto the berth and against his mate for a kiss that made his insides steam.

Wing purred, nuzzling into him, returning the kiss with equal heat. For a blissful moment he completely forgot that he was supposed to report to Axe, all but melting against Drift's armor.

Redline made a disgusted sound, glaring at both of them.

And was completely ignored as Drift's hands found black wings and his glossa pressed into Wing's mouth. Dark wings slowly flared out under Drift's hands, exposing the sensitive surfaces and the joints, as well as the sensitive metal under the wings. Wing chirred, his glossa dueling playfully with Drift's for a moment. The jet's hands slid up to tease a sensor cluster in a white spaulder and hook into a side seam.

A heavy wrench was flung with deadly accuracy, connecting with the back of Wing's helm with a heavy clang.

Wing squawked in surprise, falling right off the berth and landing in a heap on the floor. It took him a moment to get his limbs untangled and get back to his pedes, reaching up to touch the new dent on the back of his helm. Turning, he gave Redline a withering stare. The medic, however, was completely unfazed by it.

It wasn't helping that Drift was laughing. Hard.

"Enough you two," Redline growled at them. "Out."

"I don't suppose you knew a medic that goes by Ratchet?" Drift was still snickering as he slid off the berth and wrapped himself around Wing.

"No," was the brusque reply as the medic continued to glare at them, another wrench in hand.

Wing made a rude noise in Redline's direction, guiding Drift toward the door. As soon as it closed, Drift's hands were on his wings once more, and his mouth was on the jet's neck. Wing trill-purred, stumbling backward until his back hit the wall, wings stretching into Drift's hands, helm falling back to give his mate more room. He wrapped his arms around the white frame, fingers stroking along Drift's backplates, sliding along the seams.

~Probably our last bit of fun for a while,~ Drift rumbled, pressing his entire frame against Wing's and rubbing.

~Most likely,~ Wing moaned in response, pressing dark plating against white. His hands glided over Drift's back, wings pressing into his mate's strong hands, tilting his helm to rub his cheek against his mate's. He moaned when one hand slid between them to rub his valve cover, not so quietly asking for admittance.

The dark jet purred, his valve cover eagerly snapping open. Lubricants were already dribbling out, a drop running down Drift's finger. Wing lifted his leg, curling it around Drift's hip, pulling his mate closer. They moaned in unison as Drift's spike cover snapped open and he extended directly into that ever-ready and eager valve.

~Mine, forever,~ Drift shuddered as he thrust. ~Nothing will part us for long.~

~Always yours,~ Wing responded, wrapping his arms around his mate and leaning close to deliver a fiery kiss. Agreement flowed along the bond at the second statement as Wing rolled his hips against Drift's and pleasure exploded across both their neural networks. Moans were swallowed by the other as Drift set a savage pace, knowing they didn't have long if they didn't want to anger Axe, who for unknown reasons was being _mellow_ about this whole mess.

The dark jet's hips matched the pace Drift set, his hands going for the most sensitive places he knew of on the white mech's frame. Fingers slipped into seams to tug and stroke the circuitry, sliding in deeper to reach the more sensitive wiring underneath. Pleasure washed through the bond, echoing back and forth between them, driving their charge higher with all the abandon they were already renowned for.

Drift growled and bit down on an energon line, drawing a tiny trickle that he lapped up. Neither of them resisted the overload as it began to wash through them, spiraling up from their joined frames to crackle over armor and draw muted roars from them both.

Wing buried his face against his mate's helm to muffle his high keen of release. His body stiffened against Drift's, back arching to thrust his hips down and take Drift's spike in as deep as it could go. Excess charge sizzled and snapped across his plating, leaping off onto Drift and lashing at the wall.

It was all Drift could do to not crush his mate in his arms, relief and renewal of their commitment, their mutual addiction, their need to be close and stay.

As fast as it came, the rush faded, leaving them both feeling content against the other's armor.

Wing purred contentedly against Drift's armor, snuggling as close as he could and resting his helm against a white shoulder. He stayed there, not moving, until something caught his attention.

Farther down the corridor stood another mech, a red airframe a bit shorter than Axe was, his silver helm crest spanning nearly the width of his shoulders. The red mech gave the couple an amused look, then turned and casually strolled away.

~How much trouble is this Shogun?~ Drift whispered across their bond, reluctantly drawing his spike into its housing but not yet releasing his mate.

~Sane and fairly honorable,~ Wing replied, a shiver running through his body as Drift withdrew his spike. ~Axe hates him, but Shogun is smart enough to toe the line without giving Axe or Dai Atlas any reason to turn on him.~

~Axe probably hates him _because_ he's smart,~ Drift chuckled, nuzzling Wing's face up for a long, warm kiss. ~Nothing more dangerous to a psychopathic leader than sane, smart leadership potential.~

~Were anything to happen to Dai Atlas or Axe, Shogun would be one of the major candidates to take over the Circle,~ Wing agreed, trilling into the kiss. ~And that's very likely. Axe is always looking for a reason to take Shogun down, but Shogun never gives him any opportunities.~

Drift hummed and gradually disengaged from Wing's frame enough to walk. ~Who are the others?~

~There are four or five others who have the training and experience to take control of the Circle.~ Images and names and everything Wing knew about the mechs in question flickered through the bond. ~Though I doubt anyone would ever want Lightstrike anywhere near the position of Order Master.~ 

Venting heavily, Wing reluctantly peeled himself away from Drift, twining his fingers with his mate's. ~We'd better get going before Axe comes looking.~

~At least he doesn't seem that angry,~ Drift murmured, trying to support his mate while he could. Soon they would have to block the bond for their own protection. A penance was not something to be feeling across the bond. Not when they had to focus on other things.

~And that's making me a little uneasy,~ Wing admitted. ~One thing Axe has never been is easy-going. I'm not sure what he's up to this time, and that worries me.~ He leaned against Drift's shoulder, taking some comfort from his mate's presence.

~Maybe he's actually being a little bit of a creator,~ Drift willingly supplied the support. ~I've been told it's kinda a big deal to have your creation bond.~

~Maybe,~ Wing commented after a thoughtful moment. He fidgeted ever so slightly as they entered the section of the Citadel where Axe's office was. Drift squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss his cheek before they separated, only for Drift to hesitate. ~Should we clean up?~ he motioned to their groins.

Wing looked down at the lubricant and transfluid streaking his inner thighs. ~I think we'd better,~ he agreed, his audial fins flaring a bit.

A low chuckle escaped Drift as he nudged Wing towards the wall and pulled a rag from his subspace.

Wing leaned against the wall, watching his mate with a purring chuckle. He tilted one leg to present the fluid-streaked inner surface and relaxed into the enjoyment of seeing Drift knelt before him, wiping the evidence of their passion from his frame, only to trail each cleaning swipe with a line of kissing licks.

The dark jet purred, reaching down to fondle Drift's audial finials, trailing his fingers from the curve of his mate's forehelm right up to the sharp tips, kneading and stroking the white metal. The arousal it caused was expected, and fair play for the pleasurable torment Drift was causing him in cleaning him up.

They were both revved up, their bond humming with _pleasure-desire-need_ by the time they were presentable. Only the threat of Axe coming to find them was enough to keep them from going at it again.

"Need to get the penance over with," Drift mumbled, forcefully pulling himself away from his mate.

Wing let out a low whine of protest, reluctantly letting go of Drift's helm. "Yes... Making Axe wait too long would make things worse."

They took a moment to get their frames under control before taking the rest of the walk to the office. Wing pinged it and the door slid open, revealing the sparse office of his black creator.

Sharp blue optics locked on the pair, giving them no doubt that Axe knew what they had done.

Wing squirmed slightly under Axe's gaze, not meeting the blue optics. Armor plates flared and settled nervously. Next to him Drift was physically less unsettled, still not afraid of Axe, or even Dai Atlas, yet he was afraid for Wing because Wing was afraid of what was coming.

"Wing, what role did you play in Drift's absence?" Axe demanded quietly.

"When I heard Dai Atlas bellowing at Drift, heard just what kind of rage he was in, I flew Drift out of the Citadel and into the tunnels," Wing answered, looking at the floor. "Every instinct was telling me that if Dai Atlas caught Drift, he would kill him."

"An accurate assessment," Axe acknowledged, for once ignoring the flare of white armor that spoke as clearly as words that Drift had other intentions if that meeting happened. "He does not believe Drift is good enough for you, among other things. You did not keep tabs on when I got him under control."

Wing squirmed. "I was completely intent on not allowing Dai Atlas to find us. And the caves in that area block comm signals. That was an effect I was unaware of until Thorn found us." ~You were out cold, my love ... Dai Atlas would have skewered you to the berth before you woke up enough to fight back.~

Drift grumbled at him silently but didn't contest the statement.

Axe shifted his attention to Drift. "Drift, your penance will be a meditative binding in gold."

Wing blinked several times, his wings fluttering. Gold, for loyalty. The dark jet shifted, but didn't say anything, staring at his creator in surprise. Drift merely inclined his helm in acceptance. It wasn't what he'd been expecting either, but he wasn't about to complain about missing out on a severe beating.

Axe took in the reactions before pinning Wing with his optics. "You will also have a binding penance, after you see to Drift's. Yours is pink."

The dark jet's optics widened as he looked at the bigger black mech. " _Pink_?" It was the color that signified loss.

"Yes," Axe steepled his fingers and focused on his creation. "Loss, and the fear of it, has driven far too much of your behavior lately. I accept that the spark resonance is much of the cause. That does not excuse allowing it to interfere with your duties. You are still a full Knight of Shadow, the bearer of a Great Sword. Allowing a bond to interfere with your duties is unacceptable."

Wing drooped a bit, nodding. "I understand." He looked briefly at Drift, then back to Axe. "It will be done."

"Drift will see to yours," Axe told them both. "I will see to Dai Atlas being over this before he spars with Drift again," he dismissed them.

Wing nodded, reaching for his mate's hand and tugging the white mech out of the office. The dark jet turned down the corridor in the direction of the penance chambers in the lower levels. ~The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get back to our quarters.~

~And the sooner they'll start working me to exhaustion again,~ Drift grumbled silently, though he followed without resistance. ~How long are you likely to be under?~

~It varies,~ Wing admitted. ~Sometimes it lasts a few joors, other times it can last orns. I can never tell.~

~I'll be there when you're done,~ Drift promised, the bond muting slightly. It was just enough that he could do anything required of him while still catching most of what was happening to his mate.

Wing leaned in for a nuzzle, purring warmly, as he led his mate toward one of the penance rooms. ~Me first, or you?~

~Axe said mine was first. No reason to piss him off when he's being kind,~ Drift drew in a deep breath and took Too Pure For This World from his back and settled it on the vertical hooks. He turned and offered his wrists to Wing, ready to be bound.

~True.~ Wing turned to the wall cabinet, reaching inside for the gold cord. He quickly and neatly bound Drift's wrists, creating an intricate interlacing of cord over the white armor. He couldn't help but notice that the gold against white, and a bound Drift, looked _good_ in all the wrong ways for the moment.

~Later, lover,~ Drift chuckled before going serious as he knelt in front of his Great Sword, its warmth pulsing against his back as he lifted his bound wrists up and back to hook around the pommel. As little training as he had, it still only took a matter of kliks for him to sink fully into the half-trace of a meditative penance, fully in the grip of his past and his Great Sword.

Wing chirred softly, a quick flicker of a mental image of Drift wearing a gold collar with Wing's name on it leaking through the bond before being quickly suppressed. The dark jet settled nearly, curling into a loose ball of dark armor to wait, his golden optics fixed on his mate. Across the dimmed but not closed off bond he felt Drift sink into the meditative penance, felt Drift's Great Sword surge into the link as it was called on to draw everything out of Drift that was needed.

Despite all his experience, Wing found himself lost by the turmoil in his mate's processor and how completely at odds it was with the deep red spark.

With a silent sigh Wing settled down for a long observation. This wouldn't be a quick one.

Wing hadn't moved much during the time his mate was in trance, staying where he was and keeping watch. Golden optics remained on Drift, waiting patiently for Drift to return to awareness.

Sensing that the white mech was stirring, preparing to come out of his trance state, Wing moved for the first time in joors, stretching and sitting up. One hand hovered just above white armor.

~Yes,~ Drift slurred across their bond, more sensation than word. His optics weren't on yet, his frame nearly too stiff to move himself, hands were more gray than black from lack of energon. Drift and loyalty had a long and troubled relationship that wasn't anywhere close to over.

The dark jet lightly touched white armor, leaning forward to lightly brush the nasal of his helm against Drift's. Wing reached up, trailing his fingers along Drift's arm to the gold cords that bound him, untying the knot. He caught Drift as the white grounder crumpled, wrapping his arms around his mate and holding him close. Chirring softly, the dark jet nuzzled against white armor, catching one of the cold, grayed hands and kneading it gently to encourage the interrupted flow of energon to resume.

Slowly, painfully, Drift came back fully to his frame and awareness of his surroundings and began to systematically bring his systems to heel to his will once more.

Wing would be lying if he didn't say that the wash of _love-thanks-affection_ that crossed the bond and their fields didn't feel incredibly good.

Chirr deepened to a vibrating purr, Wing seeming to do his very best to wind himself around Drift like a secondary layer of armor. Tilting his helm, he nuzzled in to brush his lips lightly over Drift's, his glossa darting out to flick against Drift's lower lip. They parted without hesitation, offering a compliant mouth to the dark jet as Drift hummed his contentment. Yet there was little answering desire in Drift's frame. A willingness, but no heat.

The kiss was light, gentle, in response. Wing curled around Drift as much as he could, holding the white mech close, kneading one grayed hand until it began to warm and darken in his hands with returning energon flow. Drift was flexing the other, curling it into a fist and stretching it out fully as he snuggled against his mate. He'd truly forgotten how much a binding penance took out of him. The beatings were far easier. He didn't have to think, merely endure, and enduring pain and damage was something he had long excelled at.

Wing himself preferred the binding over the beating... It didn't end with him in the medbay requiring joors of repair, but he had been raised with it and was long used to it. It had been part of his upbringing since before he'd become an Initiate.

Purring, radiating support, he rested his helm against his mate's, dimming his optics, simply being there for him.

* * *

There was a soft scrape of armor against armor as Wing stirred. Not his restless shifting this time, or the distressed flaring of dark wings. The dark jet was finally coming out of trance after a long, brutal meditative trance. For Drift, it was not soon enough. Just shy of three orns, he was beyond twitchy at being locked in this room with an unresponsive and intensely distressed mate he wasn't permitted to touch.

Before he was even aware he'd moved, Drift's had a small energon blade in hand and was hovering just shy of touching, ready to cut the cord the moment Wing consented.

Bleary gold optics fixed on the blade. Wing nodded, waiting for the cord to be cut from limp, numb wrists. As soon as he was free, he slumped forward, unable to catch himself. Drift was ready for him, catching and supporting him easily.

While he didn't say anything, the mingling of their fields and the soft cooing rumble spoke volumes of Drift's distress even as he did all he could to comfort and support his mate.

Wing buried his face against Drift's chest, burrowing as close to white armor as he could possibly get. The dark jet was making a soft, distressed chirp sound, doing his very best to physically merge with Drift's armor. 

Around the fraying edges of the block on their bond the distress was even more intense when Drift nudged at it, then pressed harder, trying to break the block completely. He knew he was the subject of the binding, even if it was technically about loss.

Wing whimpered, curling into a tight ball in Drift's lap. The shield blocking the bond was fraying even more, the dark jet reaching out for his mate, entwining his thoughts with Drift's and clinging to the rock solid support there that promised things would be all right no matter what.

Slowly, slowly, Wing began to relax. Though his tight grip on Drift did not budge. Armor panels slicked tight against Wing's frame began to loosen, his pinions slowly rising from where they'd been flattened to his nacelles hard enough to leave faint dents. The rattle of the dark jet's trembling began to fade.

With a gentle pressure, Drift began to stroke his mate's back and along still-tightly folded wings, trying to sooth despite having little understanding of what might work.

Drift's mere presence was a comfort to the badly rattled mech. Tightly-folded wings loosened under the white mech's hands, Wing's distressed clicking easing off. He was still pressed tightly against his mate's armor and didn't show any intention of letting go anytime soon, not that Drift was inclined to try and make him move. He was entirely too happy to have the opportunity to hold him while conscious, even if he was less than thrilled with the circumstances.


	8. A New Look

Wing was pacing restlessly in the quarters he shared with his mate. The dark jet's wings were unfurling and then snapping closed again, riffling against his back armor and occasionally clanging off Challenger of Ways' blade. The Sword was radiating displeasure about the rough contact, but Wing was ignoring it.

Dai Atlas had lost control of his temper in training again, and Axe hadn't been able to stop him before Drift had been left a mangled, bleeding wreck on the training room floor. Wing's shriek had been clearly audible to about half the Citadel, and another Knight had had to catch Wing before he hit the ground after the dark jet's engines had stuttered out.

Drift had been so badly damaged it had required a major overhaul, and apparently he was having his frame rebuilt using a different design. Wing had been barred from the medical bay on pain of unspecified but insinuated consequences. The dark jet had not been fit company the whole time Drift had been in the medbay. Even Thorn had kept his distance.

Now Drift had finally been released from Redline's domain, and Wing was waiting impatiently for him to enter their quarters.

~Calm down,~ Drift's good humor brushed against the bond as it opened up again. ~I'm fine.~

~I want to see for _myself_ that you're fine,~ Wing replied, again measuring the width of his quarters with his restless pacing. ~That thrashing was worse than what Dai Atlas usually dishes out.~

~I dished out more than he's used to taking,~ Drift was decidedly smug. ~He's not used to a challenge, even a minor one.~

Wing's shudder fluffed and resettled most of his plating. ~True enough. But I would prefer not to see you in that state again.~

~I'm not fond of it either,~ Drift agreed as the door slid open, revealing a New Crystal City flavored design much more suited to a Knight of Shadow. Black and charcoal plating, highlighted with broad streaks of white along his flanks and chest. Deep red optics glittered at Wing from under a black brow.

Wing turned as the door opened, then just stared, his wings flopping open in surprise. Golden optics widened as the dark jet took in the changes to his mate's frame. "Drift?" Wing walked over, reaching out to run his fingers across the other mech's chest.

"Yes, much closer to my original look," he purred, nuzzling in to kiss his mate. "I think it suits this existence better."

Wing slowly circled his mate, optics trailing over every inch of armor. "Hmm. It looks _good_." His voice took on a throaty purr as interest swirled through the bond. "And a new frame deserves a little... investigation, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would hope so," Drift grinned over his shoulder at the dark jet, their open bond flooding with lust. "Redline does good work. It should be appreciated."

Wing purred, nudging Drift in the direction of their berth, unhooking Drift's Great Sword and carrying it to its bracket. His own joined it as the dark jet turned to his mate, flowing toward him with liquid grace. Bright golden optics wandered over the other mech's frame as he stalked toward his other half, anticipation and desire seeping through the bond in answer to Drift's lust.

Though it barely took a moment before Wing pounced, Drift had still stretched into an inviting pose, his field and spark pulsing with welcome and _want_.

Wing landed over his mate, wings spread and armor fluffed, golden optics meeting deep red. The dark jet remained still for a moment, then swooped down to deliver a searing kiss, purring loudly. Dark hands began to explore Drift's new armor, slipping into every seam, every nook and cranny. Soft moans, flickers of pleasure and appreciation and desire all assaulted Wing across their meshed fields and the bond that screamed out to be completed once more.

A throaty sound escaped Drift as his chest plates unlocked, though they did not part.

With a throaty purr and a croon of anticipation, Wing leaned down to lick lightly and teasingly along the center seam, the tip of his glossa tickling along the sensitive metal. Golden optics flickered up to meet red as the playful dark jet set about teasing his mate mercilessly, nipping and licking and stroking at the seam until it parted of its own volition, the spark protected behind the thick, heavy armor.

Armor that was even stronger than what Drift had arrived with. A design intended to survive against Dai Atlas just a little better than before.

~Stop admiring and _come here_ ,~ Drift suddenly growled and pulled Wing flush against him, into a kiss, as now black and white chest plates parted.

Wing purr-chuckled. ~Want something, my lover?~ the dark jet cooed, reaching in to stroke his fingertips lightly against Drift's spark casing. Half-lidded golden optics coyly met deep red as Wing returned the kiss.

~Yes,~ Drift nearly keened into the kiss. His chest thrust up, keeping more contact, his spark calling out to its mate to join it.

~What is it you want?~ Wing crooned, slithering lithely down Drift's body, leaning in to lick at the crystalline casing containing the deep red spark. ~Tell me what you want, Drift.~

~Spark merge,~ he actually growled across the bond, his spark demanding it even more than Drift.

Trilling warmly, Wing took his time crawling back up Drift's frame, his lips kissing a line from the crystalline cage enclosing the deep red spark up to his mate's lips. Dark armor plates unlocked and parted, orange light leaking out of the seams. Wing's spark was all but flattened against the side of its own casing, straining to get out and meet its other half.

Drift's was no less impatient, though with a far less resistance Drift's chamber was already spiraling open, allowing his spark to lunge outward. Deep red tendrils and corona lashed out at Wing, seeking to draw the orange spark out and into itself.

A shiver ran through Wing's entire frame at the contact. A deep moan escaped as his spark chamber opened, his orange spark slipping through the seams as the chamber parted, darting out to happily twine itself around Drift's deep red. Threads of red and orange energy wrapped around each other, pulling the two sparks together into a single sphere of red-orange light.

Physical reality was lost almost instantly to the bliss and intimacy of sharing their very life force. Memories, pleasure and desire swirled between them. Fears were soothed and reassurances exchanged. Their bond and the rightness of it confirmed.

Wing writhed atop Drift, optics flaring and dimming from the intensity of the merge. The physical reaction was barely noticed. Wing's entire self was thoroughly merged with Drift's, pleasure building as it washed back and forth between the pair. It was the joy, the sense of being complete and unstoppable that both found the most addictive. It was less than a klik before they lost what little resistance they each had to the overload building between their sparks, though to the mechs involved it felt like nothing and forever all at once.

Wing overloaded with a shriek, the cry breaking into static as his vocalizer shorted out, his optics flaring almost white. His dark frame stiffened over Drift's, joints locked, wings flared to their full span, his helm thrown back, chest pressed tightly against his mate's. Dark fingers hooked into black and gray armor as it shimmered with the breaking charge. Drift nearly mirrored his mate, his frame arched until they were both supported by little more than Drift's black pedes and matching black folded down spaulders.

The roar Drift let go of shook the rooms around them and echoed out into the courtyards beyond, letting everyone know that it was once more safe to be near Wing.

As the charge dissipated and their sparks reluctantly returned to their chambers, both frames slumped down into a tensionless heap of black and gray with bits of red, gold and white.

Wing flopped over his mate's chassis, venting heavily, steam wisping out of some vents and the air shimmering with heat over others. He was almost completely limp, a puddle of shadow with wings, optics half-lit, purring unsteadily. The dark jet nuzzled against his mate, content to remain where he was. Across their wide-open bond and mingled fields, Drift's contentment with that idea was clear.


	9. Knighting a Shadow

A large black mech walked along the corridors of the Knight's Citadel, heading to the levels where his creation and creation's mate had their quarters. Other Knights he passed bowed respectfully to Axe as he passed them, the black Knight mostly ignoring them as he walked.

Reaching Wing's quarters, Axe knocked sharply on the door, waiting briefly while the door unlocked and slid aside to admit him. Two pairs of optics, one red and one gold, lifted to meet his blue as Axe stepped into the room. Drift was on the far side of the room, Wing draped over his shoulders, their armor almost seeming to fade into each other in some places.

"It is time," Axe rumbled, walking across the room toward them.

Without a sound, Drift rose to one knee and offered his Great Sword on the back of two outstretched wrists, Wing letting go and drawing back slightly but not going far. The Great Sword's hilt gem flickered briefly, but otherwise Too Pure For This World did not react. It knew what was happening and it was not sure it liked it.

Axe took the Great Sword, regarding its bearer through slightly narrowed blue optics. "Wing has explained to you what is expected of you?"

"Yes, Master Axe," Drift's tone was respectful, something that Axe had earned over the long vorns of Drift's training. No one was fooled into thinking he was _loyal_ to the black Knight, but Axe still took it as it was meant -- Drift accepted him as a leader.

Axe regarded the two mechs silently for a long moment. Wing was visibly nervous even though he was keeping his field close to his frame. Drift was harder to read, though after the vorns Axe had gathered enough bits of Drift's history to have a firm grasp on why. Drift had survived enough before coming here to fit right in, but also had endured insane leadership long enough that he no longer feared it. Blue optics scrutinized Drift for a moment before the black Knight finally nodded ever so slightly, turning to leave the room.

It was time for Drift to become one of the Knights of Shadow. The gray and black mech's Great Sword would be placed within the vault with the unbonded Great Swords, and then Drift would be brought in to choose his Great Sword from among all the others.

Dai Atlas lurked near the vault, his red optics watching balefully as Axe approached with Drift's Great Sword. The blue mech was still no fan of Drift, though he had accepted Drift's presence. With great reluctance and no few fights.

Ignoring his mate's glower, Axe coded open the door to the vault, stepping inside. The overhead lights caught in the gems of the Great Swords lining the walls, reflecting in every color of the spectrum. The gems glowed as the Swords greeted their comrades, a multi-toned hum only those bonded to a Great Sword could hear. Axe could feel his own Sentry of Balance responding as he crossed the vault, setting Too Pure For This World into one of the empty brackets.

The black Knight lingered for several kliks, waiting for Sentry of Balance to finish its communion with the others. He'd learned the hard way that Great Swords did not like being interrupted. When the Great Sword chatter finally wrapped up, Axe turned on his heel and left the vault, heading back up into the residence tower to retrieve Drift and Wing. He was still irritated with his creation over his _need_ to be along, but he couldn't complain. Not with all that Wing had consented to for the privileges he'd been granted.

Privately, he wasn't sure he wanted to know what they did to get Drift so well polished and perfectly detailed. He knew the pair did very little but interface. Really, their lack of ambition to do anything _but_ indulge in the carnal arts was one of the bonuses of having Drift around.

Wing got into _so_ much less trouble. He was far easier to threaten as well.

Snorting to himself at that line of thought, Axe made his way back to Wing and Drift's quarters. Yes, Drift's presence did have its good points. Sometimes.

Wing was almost vibrating with nervousness as Axe reappeared at his door. The dark jet was practically adhered to Drift's side. Axe gave him a flat look, then gestured sharply for both to follow him. Their reactions made one think it was _Wing_ trying to claim a Great Sword, not Drift.

The gray and black grounder was just too calm as they walked in silence to the Great Sword vault. Before the vault door was opened, Drift turned his optics off as required. This test, and it was a test even for him, was about listening to his spark and to the Great Swords around him. A large hand on his shoulder guided him to a pace before the first of the unclaimed blades, then let him go as its owner backed off watch.

At least according to Axe, it was possible for a Great Sword to kill a mech trying to claim it. He even provided the designation of the Initiate that had failed this test. Several others had been knocked on their afts with smoking circuits, but went on to choose correctly after the pointed rejection. Wing knew this from first hand accounts, though he'd had no such difficulties.

For Drift, the difficult part was to go through with the steps and touch each Great Sword. He _knew_ where his was, but it was part of the rite to check every one of them by touch.

One by one, the Great Swords accepted his touch and brush of his field, but pushed back to move on, which he did without question or fear of reaching the end without being accepted. When he came to Too Pure For This World his spark and the Great Sword sang to each other, a caress he had long known but never stopped to appreciate. Reluctantly Drift moved on, following the path to greet the rest of the blades. Yet even in that reunion touch, he knew that his bond with Too Pure For This World would never be what it was between most Knights and their Great Swords. At best he and Too Pure For This World had an uneasy truce, an acceptance of their mutual fate but no common ground other than the Wing from another world.

When his fingers touched another Great Sword down the line, it startled him into stopping dead. This blade _wanted_ to be his. It felt so _right_ to his spark it was painful.

Axe tilted his helm slightly to one side, watching with interest. This was new, but then, no other Knight of Shadow had been bonded to a Great Sword before they even started training. Crossing his arms over his chest, the black Knight watched, interested in seeing how this turned out.

Next to the large triple changer, Wing fidgeted in place but otherwise didn't move, knowing that if he ventured into the vault he would be breaking rules and would draw a penance for it. He settled for shifting his weight from side to side, armor plates partly flattened to his frame, nacelle pinions on end.

Dai Atlas glared over his mate's shoulder, watching Drift's every move. The blue giant made a deep rumble, but kept his acidic comments to himself.

They watched as Drift quivered, uncertain how to respond, knowing that he had to make a choice without any help and that what he did in the next moment would determine much of his remaining function.

He already had a bond with Too Pure For This World, but it had never been _his_. It had changed him to suit its desires, something he still hated when he allowed himself to think about it. Their bond was a volatile one at the best of times.

Here was a Great Sword that resonated with _him_ the way Wing's did with him, the way he knew it should. Drift had so long ago accepted that such a bond was simply not for him, that Wing was his gift from Primus, that nothing could come close to feeling that _right_ , and yet here it was.

A faint tremor passed through him as he flattened his palm against the gem, seeking to explore this, to understand before he chose. It didn't matter that he knew the choice had been made long ago. Part of him still forced him to torture himself with what could be, to reach out for what he would always be denied and forced to watch others have. His spark literally cried out as Stormsurge of War tried to bond with him right there. It truly was trying to steal him from his existing bond and his spark was all for it.

It was enough to drop Drift to his knees with an agonized keen that no penance had ever drawn from him.

A large dark hand clamped down on Wing's shoulder to keep the dark jet from moving, Axe growling at his creation. Wing subsided slowly, biting into his knuckle to keep from crying out to Drift. Axe glared at him for a moment, then turned his attention back to Drift, waiting to see what the gray and black mech would do. They could all feel the Great Sword's demand, its claim that this was _its_ mech.

Somehow Drift pushed himself to his pedes. His spark howled in distress, but no matter how badly spark and Great Sword wanted it, he was already bound to Too Pure For This World. This was not a choice. It was nothing more than a punishment to give himself over the past, over failing Wing and permitting his love to die for him, because of him.

Yet as his fingers came near the Great Sword, it spoke of options, whispered that the bond _could_ be broken if Drift accepted a new Great Sword, and that Great Sword was strong enough to win him. That it _was_ strong enough, and it was willing to fight for him.

Drift stumbled again, leaning hard against the wall with his fingers still on the blade of this Great Sword that resonated so strongly with him.

It was willing to fight for him? Truly?

With a deep, shuddering intake Drift took the plunge and accepted the offer.

Axe's optic ridges went up in surprise, and Dai Atlas let out a surprised grunt from behind him. Wing's audial fins and wings flared out as he stared at his mate. This was something none of the three had ever expected. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

Despite the strongest block they could manage on their bond, the intense pain of Drift's spark as a several millennia-old bond was challenged and sheared apart thread by thread crashed through almost unhindered.

Wing keened around his own knuckle, still clenched tightly between his dentas hard enough to leave clear impressions. He leaned against the wall, his whole body shivering, feeling every bit of the pain as the bond Drift had with his Great Sword broke. After a moment, the dark jet's legs gave way. Wing collapsed, curling into a tight ball. Axe looked down at him, helm tilted to one side, while Dai Atlas just stared.

Beyond their reach Drift was on his knees, silent but in obvious pain as he forced himself to remain upright enough to maintain contact with the Great Sword who'd claimed him. Energy wrapped around them both, crackling and dancing, lashing out at anything within reach. From its brackets Too Pure For This World also lashed out, struggling to keep the bond it had become so familiar with.

It was Drift's will, the push of his spark, that made the final choice.

Too Pure For This World would simply have to wait for another to bear it. Drift belonged with another, and they had claimed each other.

Wing's pained keening finally faded into a soft whimper. The dark jet hadn't moved, still curled into a ball on the floor. Axe and Dai Atlas had their full attention on what was going on between Drift and the two Great Swords, ignoring the whimpering mech next to them.

They watched as Drift struggled to his pedes and blindly worked his way along the wall to touch each of the remaining Great Swords. There was no grace to his movements now, only sheer determination to perform the task before him.

He stumbled forward, his hand brushing against the next blade and its gratefully cool response to him. Four more ... one more ... and Drift allowed himself to drop to his knees once more. His frame and spark were both in agony, though he was in no danger now. He only needed time to recover and for his spark to settle. Despite his own pain, he tried to reach out to Wing through their bond, well aware that the blocks had shattered.

The dark jet shuddered, reaching tentatively out to Drift, forcing his way through the pain. It was fading now, thankfully. Slowly, Wing uncurled, struggling to get back to his pedes while his thoughts reached out to twine with his mate's. He met calmness mingled with the last shudders of remembered pain and a gradually swelling joy at the freedom of being bound to a Great Sword that was a good match for him.

~Not planned, but good,~ Drift assured him.

They all watched as Drift remained still, his vents audibly wheezing as he struggled to recover fully from having the bond broken and immediately taken over.

A breem and the black and gray mech finally drew himself to his pedes and returned without hesitation to the Great Sword who had claimed him. The first touch was soothing, reinforcing the fledgling bond. The Great Sword's response could best be interpreted as a possessive "MINE!", wrapping itself around Drift's spark.

~I've never heard of anything like that happening before.~ Wing braced himself against the wall. He looked at the Great Sword that had claimed his mate, flaring his audial fins curiously. ~What is its name?~

~Stormsurge of War,~ Drift managed not to physically grin. ~We are much more suited to each other.~

"The Great Sword has chosen you," Axe stated, his tone formal.

Drift nodded, his frame, spark and processors exhausted by the ordeal. Drift had chosen his fate as much as this Great Sword had chosen him.

He steadied his hands and took his Great Sword from the bracket it rested on and brought it to the door. He would not wear the weapon until he was fully accepted as a Knight by the Circle of Shadows. Not until every living Knight had their say on his suitability.

Even now, bonded to a Great Sword, backed and trained by the leader of the order, bonded to a full Knight, he could still be rejected by the Circle.

Axe stepped aside, allowing Drift to leave the vault, and shut the door after them, turning to face the grounder and his creation as Wing once more latched onto Drift.

"Its designation?" Another ritual question.

"Stormsurge of War," Drift answered in the same ritual tone.

Axe nodded, then indicated another door across the hall, walking over to it. Wing tugged Drift over to the room, slipping inside with him. The dark jet stayed out of reach of Axe, reluctantly letting go of Drift. Dai Atlas remained outside, a glowering mass of blue metal slouched against the wall.

"This is where a Knight Initiate formally bonds with their Great Sword," Axe informed Drift, closing the door and taking up a position across the room, facing the grounder. Wing lurked nearby, one wing twitching. "To do so, you must bare your spark to the Great Sword."

A faint tremor passed Drift's frame at that. He hadn't quite grasped that Axe would be in the room _with_ him. Still, this wasn't a complete surprise. He knew it was coming, it was just now that he fully grasped why his mate was so twitchy about it.

With a deep, calming intake of air, Drift nodded and knelt, allowing memories from Wing, Too Pure For This World and Stormsurge of War to guide him.

Level blue optics and wide golden optics watched the black and gray grounder, Axe folding his arms across his chest. "Expose your spark to the Great Sword's gem and allow the edge of your spark's corona to touch the jewel."

Drift trembled, not at the bonding, but at having a mech he didn't trust there for it. He turned his optics off and pulled his sensors and field in close, intentionally preventing himself from noticing the large mech unless Axe tried for his attention. He trusted his mate to protect him if need be.

With more effort that it took most, he ordered his chest plates to open, then his spark chamber to move forward and open as he brought Stormsurge of War's glowing purple-pink gem close to his deep red spark.

Wing might have been a statue but for the glow of his optics, the gleam of the red gem in the hilt of his Great Sword, and the slight flick of a slender wing. He watched in silence as Stormsurge of War's hilt gem lit up, shining like a small purple-pink star, the glow reaching out to caress its bearer's deep red spark.

Drift's spark reached out, wrapping the gem in a network of red tendrils. It created a rich, deep pink glow as the entire Great Sword began to glow, Drift's spark energy merging with the energy of the Great Sword, strengthening the fledgling bond there, but also making tiny changes as Drift's fundamental spark nature.

With a bright flare of spark-light, the two coronas separated and Drift closed his chest armor quickly, though otherwise he held still to recover.

"By the law of the Knights, you are now formally bound to your Great Sword. It is now yours in the optics of the Circle." Axe stirred from the shadow where he had been standing, clearly expecting both Drift and Wing to follow as he left the room. Dai Atlas fell into step beside his mate as they headed for the Circle's main meeting chamber.

Drift nodded, slow and careful. His senses weren't quite stable yet, but he understood what he was being told and accepted the support of his mate to follow as expected. Within a klik his optics cleared and focused, though he was showing how wearing this was even more.

Drift was drained; physically, emotionally, psychologically. All he wanted, desperately, was to press close to Wing and be held as he recharged for a few joors.

The low hum of voices could be heard well outside the great meeting hall of the Circle of Shadow as the gathered Knights conversed, awaiting the arrival of their leader and his mate. It was fairly common knowledge what was going on. This was far too big an event to be a surprise to anyone.

Wing began to fidget more and more as they neared the doors to the great hall. He knew of several Knight Initiates who had been rejected by the Circle at this last, crucial stage. He desperately hoped that his mate would not be one of them. It inevitably led to the deactivation of the Initiate, whether through suicide or murder.

Without a pause, Axe pushed open the doors, leading the group into the hall. Many of the seats were filled, the growl of biting remarks and dark looks being exchanged here and there. The chatter began to quiet as the assembled Knights realized who had entered, the hall falling into an uneasy silence.

Dai Atlas stormed up the steps to his place, glaring down at Drift. Very reluctantly, Wing let go of his mate, taking his own place. Axe remained on the floor, clamping one hand onto Drift's shoulder and pulling the smaller mech forward.

"Knights of the Circle of Shadow, before you stands one who wishes to join our ranks," Axe announced, pitching his voice formally. "He has trained under Dai Atlas and myself and survived, and he has bonded his Great Sword." Blue optics swept the listening Knights. "Shall the mech known as Drift join our ranks as a Knight of Shadow?"

The lack of tension, of fear of rejection, in Drift was not lost to Axe. What to think about it was another matter. This Initiate had been _different_ in every way.

One by one, beginning with Wing and quickly Thorn, the gathering added their hum to a chorus. One tone for acceptance, a dissonant one for rejection, a third that harmonized for acceptance with reservations. Most hesitated, waiting for Dai Atlas to pass judgment. Insane as half of them were, they knew better than to cross their leader too much.

Dai Atlas glared at Drift for a long moment, optics flaring a fiery red. When he finally gave his judgment, after a good prod from Axe through their bond, it was acceptance with reservations, underscored with the Knight leader's ever-present growl.

At that most Knights accepted Drift, a mixture of outright acceptance and with reservations. The dissonant harmonics began to pick up, drawing first from Marwir and spreading through her closest allies.

Wing's wings rattled against his back armor, Challenger of Ways' hilt gem flashing once as a wing panel struck its blade. The dark jet's hum of acceptance never faltered, but he was fearing the worst.

Axe listened, narrowing his optics as he tallied up the dissonance with the harmonics. The only rejections were coming from Marwir and four other Knights. Not enough for Drift to be rejected.

The final Knight added his hum, a dissonance. Only this time Drift locked rich red optics on the offender and the sound faltered, then shifted to a harmonized acceptance with reservations. A flicker of pride reached Drift across his bond with Wing, and he sent a smirk of sorts back. This was a game he knew well from long before he became Deadlock, much less came to this city.

Axe turned to face the gray and black grounder, the meeting hall falling silent as he did so. Level blue optics met dark red as Axe began to recite the long form of the creed of the Knights of Shadow, to which Drift had to respond with "I do" or "I accept" at the appropriate places.

With every correct answer at the correct moment, Wing felt his pride and relief swell. This was the type of training that Drift did the most poorly with; knowledge without a practical, physical application. Wing had drilled him exhaustively in the proper order, several times making Drift go through the whole thing before letting his mate pin him to the berth. He knew exactly how hard Drift had worked to get this right, and that he hadn't learned for himself. Drift had learned this because he couldn't stand to let Wing down, even in the tiny way of making a mistaken word.

Axe finished the Creed, Drift's last response trailing into silence. Wing was almost vibrating where he sat, trying his hardest to keep his wings folded. Several mecha could hear the faint rattle of wing panels against Wing's back plating.

There was a moment of silence as Axe finished the Creed. He gazed at Drift measuringly for a long, tense moment, then nodded ever so slightly. "Welcome to the Circle of Shadow."

Wing just barely managed to refrain from slumping down onto the table from pure relief. Drift had made it. Despite all the challenges, Drift had become a full Knight of Shadow.

Drift inclined his helm silently in acceptance of the proclamation, but also a small show of submission to the ranking Knight. When the leader stepped back, Drift slid his Great Sword into the brackets on his back that had been empty since he had been accepted into training.

Wing was almost beside himself with happiness as Axe indicated Drift's place in the chamber, next to Wing's. 

The dark jet was unable to refrain from leaning over and giving his mate a thorough kiss that was returned with even more heat as Drift's hands slid around him to stroke his wings and Great Sword. They both completely ignored the low growl from Dai Atlas. It wasn't until the Knight leader let out a sharp bark that Wing withdrew, glancing over at his glaring creator before settling back into his own seat. Axe rolled his optics at both of them.

It caused a wave of snickers to pass around the room, and didn't deter Drift from pressing close and twining his fingers with Wing's.

"Now, we may celebrate our newest member," Dai Atlas roared, earning rumbles, trills and even shouts of excitement.

Wing purred softly, so only his mate could hear, tugging Drift from his seat and after the others as they piled out of the room. Dai Atlas would maim anyone he caught drinking in the main meeting hall, and everyone knew it. Instead they used one of the other assembly rooms and the rec room for their drinking and rare parties.

For Drift, it was almost too easy to slide into the easy manner but careful defensiveness of what 'party' had meant for so much of his existence. His time as Deadlock was incredibly useful among these mecha, and gave him an edge. Crazy and violent as many of them were, they had nothing on the Decepticon high command.

Smoothly, Drift claimed two cubes, silently daring a couple of Knights to challenge him, before handing one to Wing.

Wing chuckled as the other Knights got out of the way, accepting a cube with a purr and taking a sip. Golden optics skimmed lightly over the crowd as the noise level began to slowly increase. He was aware of what would likely happen next. The hazing was pretty much inevitable.

~Love, we both know these mecha have no clue what overcharged hazing actually _is_ ,~ Drift snickered silently, though he very willingly snuggled close in a blatant statement of his place, and Wing's.

~Doesn't mean they aren't going to try,~ Wing replied, pressing himself against his mate and leaning in for a nuzzle. Other Knights eyed the two of them, but made no comment. Yet.

~Then let's prod them into action,~ Drift's thoughts were full of gleeful malice as he grabbed Wing's helm and pulled him into a kiss that could melt plating.

Wing's response was a cheerfully evil laugh as he returned the kiss, shamelessly rubbing his plating against his mate's. Other Knights watched with interest, someone letting out a catcall from the other side of the room. It did nothing but encourage the couple as the kiss heated up and Drift pushed Wing's back against a table, silently suggesting the jet hop up so he could be taken on full display.

Wing flowed onto the table like a dark liquid, not breaking the kiss. Dark arms wrapped around Drift's frame, fingertips sneaking into seams and trailing over the underlying circuitry. He wasn't at all bothered by their audience. They never had been before. They weren't about to be now.

The other Knights gathered into a ring around the pair, watching with interest, commenting to each other or just making catcalls and lewd remarks. Dai Atlas glowered from where he lurked by the far wall. Axe chuckled to himself from the shadow he'd chosen to lurk in.

"Mine," Drift growled as the kiss broke and his fingers slid between them to press against Wing's valve cover.

"And you are mine," Wing purred in response, his valve cover opening immediately. His fingers dipped into a seam of Drift's spaulder, kneading a particularly sensitive sensor node.

A low moan rumbled up from Drift's chest as his spike slid free and pressurized, rubbing against the pool of platelets around Wing's valve before he shifted to press the tip there and drive in with a smooth thrust.

Wing moaned, rolling his hips into the thrust, wrapping his legs around Drift's waist and hooking his ankles together. Dark wings spread out, fluttering and wiggling, begging to be petted.

The lewd comments and catcalls increased in volume, many of the watching mechs, more than a few already into the tipsy stage, offering tips and advice on other things Drift could do with Wing.

~They have good ideas overcharged,~ Drift grinned as he pounded into his black mate, their mouths locked and his hands on fluttering black wings. ~I wonder how long it'll take someone to challenge to me 'face the lot of them.~

Wing's response was part laugh and part moan. ~They'll have to be a little drunker for that.~ He writhed sensually against Drift, wings pressing into his hands, stretched out and forward to expose all the most sensitive surfaces and joints to Drift's hands. The dark jet mewed into Drift's mouth, one hand sneaking up to play with the grounder's audial spires. ~As for the suggestions, at least they remembered that you're a groundframe and aren't suggesting any of the ones that require being in the air.~

~We'll see how long that lasts,~ Drift moaned deeply, driving his hips against his mate as he struggled between drawing out the show and showing off or enjoying the pleasure and getting off.

~By the time they start with those suggestions, they're going to be so overcharged they won't be coherent anymore,~ Wing snickered. His fingers flirted along a transformation seam, hot air from his vents swirling over Drift's armor. The dark jet's lips moved to his mate's throat, nipping at the cables.

Whatever Drift was going to reply with was cut short by sharp claws sliding smoothly along his valve cover. Despite the shiver of pleasure it sent through his frame Drift turned his helm and snarled at a very tipsy Thorn.

Wing glared over Drift's shoulder, untangling one leg to deliver a solid if sloppy kick to Thorn's hip, hissing at the other black jet as Thorn stumbled back.

"Wha? You aren't using that part," Thorn's voice was decidedly slurred as he regained his balance. "You hardly ever do."

"Doesn't mean you can butt in," Wing hissed back, clinging possessively to Drift. Dark wings were quivering. " _Mine_."

~Can I deck him?~ Drift cooed across their bond. ~He's overcharged enough to go down fast.~

~Go right ahead,~ Wing crooned back. ~If he touches you again, _I'll_ deck him.~ He loosened his grip to give Drift some room to move, watching with interest as Drift pulled out of him, twisted around and used all the momentum to connect his fist with Thorn's face.

The tall black jet staggered backwards before dropping to his aft. Red optics stared at Drift, not truly seeing as the dark mech pounced, knocking him flat and driving another punch squarely against the center of the silver faceplates.

Wing lounged on the table, legs parted and valve dripping lubricant, his golden optics on his mate and Thorn. Anyone who was close enough to hear the dark jet's throaty, pleased purr had absolutely no doubt that he was enjoying what he was watching. That pleasure flowed through their bond and egged Drift on until his target was a mess of leaking energon and cracked armor.

Only then did he growl in satisfaction and get to his pedes to turn on Wing, an utterly feral light in his deep red optics before he pounced and drove his still pressurized spike fully into the offered valve.

Wing welcomed Drift with half-lidded, sultry optics and invitation in every line of him. The dark jet moaned as he was fiercely taken, pressing himself against his mate, giving himself over to Drift.

Dai Atlas growled from where he watched, wings flaring and plating almost vibrating. Axe merely looked down at the mess that was Thorn, optics taking in the damage as Redline huffed and stalked towards his first patient and gathered the slender Knight to haul to medical bay.

With a roar Drift overloaded, filling his mate's valve with hot, viscous, heavily charged transfluid.

Wing's back arched, his chestplate scraping against Drift's as the dark jet all but shrieked out his own release. His valve clamped down on Drift's spike, milking out every last drop of fluid. Wing clung to Drift's frame, venting heavily, tucking his helm under his mate's chin as they recovered.

~Think we can escape yet?~ Drift nudged his mate across their bond.

The watching circle of Knights had not been immune to what they had witnessed and had more or less devolved into several isolated couples and one larger knot of limbs. Wing rolled his helm to one side, watching with amusement, cheekily grinning at the exasperated-furious glare he was getting from Dai Atlas' direction. 

~I doubt anyone but my creators will notice if we leave now,~ the dark jet finally replied, unwinding himself from Drift's frame and shakily getting to his pedes. ~Quite the chain reaction we set off.~

Drift's replying grin was more smirk and his every line radiated sated, smug satisfaction as he steadied his black jet before tugging him towards the door. ~Dai Atlas really needs to get laid more often.~

Wing snickered, leaning on his mate for balance. ~I think most of the Circle would agree with you there.~


	10. Shocking News

Wing hovered in a corner of the medbay nearest his mate, arms wrapped around himself, shifting his weight restlessly from pede to pede. His gaze was locked on the black and gray frame of his mate, wings vibrating against his back and Great Sword complaining about it. The dark jet was too overwhelmed with worry to notice.

He and Drift had been sparring when the grounder had unexpectedly collapsed. Wing had not inflicted any damage beyond scratches and scuffs, nothing that would account for Drift's sudden collapse. Wing had stared at his mate for a moment before actually dropping his swords and darting to his mate's side. He'd then picked his mate up and flew him to the medical wing of the Citadel. His swords were most likely where he had left them, on the floor of the arena.

Now he was waiting restlessly for Redline to tell him what was wrong with his lover.

The sudden shocked ripple down Redline's entire frame before he whirled on Wing with a stunned, half horrified expression sent Wing even more on edge as the larger mech stalked to him. "What were you two _thinking_?" he hissed.

Wing backed up until he hit the wall, staring at the medic in pure confusion. "What are you talking about? What's wrong with Drift?" He flattened himself against the wall, hoping Redline wasn't going to take a swing at him. The dark jet had no room to dodge.

"He's with newspark," Redline hissed. "Two metacycles old. The only reason he lasted this long are all those redundant systems he's got."

Wing gawked at the older mech, jaw dropping. His golden optics were as wide as they could possibly go. "He's _carrying_?" the dark jet squeaked. This was news to him.

"Yes he's carrying. Congratulations. Your creators are going to deactivate both of them, if not all three of you. What were you _thinking_ , disabling the safeguards I installed in you both?"

"We didn't!" Wing protested. "Considering how many times Drift and myself have gotten slagged by my creators, I am not surprised the damage disabled them. That makes it _your_ fault for not noticing." Golden optics blazed as Wing puffed up, glaring at the medic with enough heat to make Redline take a step back. "And my creators are _not_ going to find out about this. Compute?"

Redline narrowed his optics. "What will you do with it once it separates?"

"We will keep this sparkling, and we will raise it," Wing informed the medic, still glaring up at the larger mech.

Redline cycled his optics several times. "How?" he finally stammered. "How will you keep it a secret that long?"

"However I have to," was the response. "However _we_ have to." He tilted his helm toward his mate.

A deep x-vent escaped Redline and he rubbed his faceplates. "Do you have any idea what you're getting into? What you'll need to keep a sparkling healthy until it's old enough? Or even how you'll make it a citizen?"

"I can find out what we will need from the databases," the dark jet answered, the set of his wings and features determined. "And we will think of something. But we will keep this sparkling."

"All right, all right," Redline sighed deeply. "Let me bring him up to operational levels and then we're going to have a _talk_ in my office."

Wing nodded, his tense posture relaxing. He trailed Redline over to Drift's berth, waiting and watching while Redline worked on his mate. He knew enough medical procedure at this point to pick up that what had caused Drift's collapse was something to do with energon and supplements, since that was all Redline seemed to pumping into him.

"You're going to have to keep Drift away from everyone for the second half. His frame will reconfigure to make room for the protoform to be built," Redline said conversationally as he monitored Drift's levels. "It will be _very_ obvious to anyone with half a processor what's going on, and especially obvious to your creators, as they've been through this a few times."

Wing nodded. "I will keep that firmly in mind." He kept his optics on his mate. "Drift is not the most social of mechs to begin with." The dark jet was making careful note of everything, giving it the highest priority tag in his processor.

"An advantage," Redline acknowledged. "He will need extra energon, and many supplements, either in his energon or in his diet somewhere. Extra recharge. I recommend spark merging and you spiking him often, if you want the sparkling to have any real chance of being a flier. The less of you that Drift takes in while he's carrying, the more the sparkling will take after him."

"As often as he will let me." Wing nodded again. "I'm well-versed in sneaking things past my creators, so the supplements shouldn't be too difficult to stash. As for spark merging... We have a very hard time resisting."

"I have noticed," the medic rolled his optics. "He's likely to be even more volatile than before. Far quicker to take offence and far more likely to kill when threatened, with a lower threshold for what constitutes a threat. You'll find yourself even more prone to violence to protect him, whether he needs it or not."

The dark jet considered that. "Definitely a good reason for him to avoid the others." He flared wings and pinions. "I understand."

"Good," Redline nodded. "I expect you get him here when the sparkling is ready to separate from his systems. It should begin with warnings to his HUD at least six joors ahead of time. I also expect to see him for a checkup at least once a metacycle, if not more often, and no damage. If he gets slagged again, it won't survive and it could take him down with it, depending on the timing."

"I will make sure he understands that if I have to sit on him and repeat it to him several times a night." Wing smiled slightly. "And I'll make sure he comes for his appointments."

"Good," Redline seemed to relax a bit. "Other than his lifestyle, he's actually reasonably well suited to carry. His spark is extremely strong and stable and his systems are very well built and maintained, even before I got my hands on him."

Wing purred softly. "Drift is strong. And the medic from the other dimension did very good work on him."

"That he did," Redline murmured. "He should be coming around now."

Wing took a step closer, concentrating on his mate now that he knew Redline wasn't going to swat him. Dark fingers ran lightly over Drift's cheek. ~Wakey wakey, lover of mine.~

~What hit me?~ Drift allowed himself to boot naturally. If Wing was calm, whatever danger was past.

~Energy drain, I think...~ Wing debated for a moment. Did he want to shock his mate? He got so few opportunities. But then, Drift generally didn't take surprises all that well. ~You're going to have to consume more energon from now on. And add extra supplements to your diet.~

There was a momentary pause as Drift shifted to a fast boot. ~Why?~ He asked, decidedly suspicious, though he didn't know about what.

~Because I don't want to lose you or the sparkling you're carrying,~ Wing replied, twining his fingers with his mate's. Drift's reaction to _that_ promised to be interesting, to say the least.

There was a long moment as Drift processed the words, and the bond went dark again.

"You glitch!" Redline snarled and whacked Wing on the back of the helm. "You told him, didn't you?"

Wing yelped, ducking away from the swat. "I can't hide anything from him!" He rubbed the back of his helm, glaring at Redline. "He'd have it out of me one way or another." Wary now, Wing hovered just out of reach.

"Now we have to wait for him to boot _again_ ," the medic growled. "You. Come." He demanded and twisted on one heel to stalk toward his supply room.

The dark jet slinked after the medic, glowering at Redline's back as the two walked into the supply room. Wing remained out of reach, not wanting to get smacked again. He watched as Redline snagged a box from a shelf in the back and held them out to Wing.

"The supplements he'll need for the next metacycle," he said coolly. "I'll give you the next batch when he comes in for his checkup."

Wing accepted the box, tucking it into his subspace and murmuring his thanks. It would save him a lot of trouble and no small expense in all likelihood.

"If this hits the fan, I will deny knowing or helping," Redline warned him. "Until then, I will do what I can for that sparkling."

The dark jet looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "Understandable. And thank you."

There was a lingering pause as Redline regarded the relative youth before he softened. "If you have questions, come to me. A sparkling is going to be an even greater challenge than becoming a Knight." 

Wing relaxed. "You'll probably be seeing a lot of us, then. I'm aware of the challenge; I have seen other sparklings being raised. But it would be worth it."

Another nod, then a pause. "If this goes poorly, I will miss you both," he muttered before stalking out of the supply room and back to Drift's berth.

"We're not that easy to get rid of," Wing cracked with an internal shudder, not wanting to think about the possibilities of what might happen if they got caught. He followed Redline back out into the main bay, reaching out to take Drift's hand again. It didn't take his mate long to rouse again, this time the fast boot happened right off the bat.

Deep red optics lit and sought out Redline.

"Yes, he told you the truth," the medic said evenly, giving no hint of what he thought about it. "Are you steady enough to walk?"

Drift nodded mutely, his side of the bond with Wing swirling with emotions, not one of them positive and most flowing into dread of one form or another.

"Then I'll let you talk this over in my office for some privacy," he motioned them to the door.

Wing gripped his mate's hand, leaning against the black and gray mech's shoulder. He was pushing reassurance through the bond as he led Drift over to the medic's office. Drift remained silent as the door closed behind them. Only after it locked did the tremor Wing could feel make its way to expression.

"We're screwed."

The dark jet pressed himself against Drift. "Not if we don't get caught." One dark hand rubbed Drift's chestplate, over his spark.

Deep red optics met golden. "We couldn't keep the bond a secret, how will we manage _this_?"

 _Determination_ echoed through the bond. "We'll manage. We won't repeat the mistakes that got us caught before."

Drift's forehelm came to rest against Wing's, the trembling just as pronounced as before. Memory snippets, half-thoughts and fears swirled together. What Drift had seen happen to sparklings and younglings, things that horrified even Wing into realizing that as violent as his life was, the cruelty he knew was nothing compared to what was out there.

Dark wings and pinions flared out. Wing had never seen, or even _heard_ anything that horrific before. That didn't happen in New Crystal City, and he told his mate as much.

Eventually Drift managed to nod, their forehelms still together. He pressed tightly against his mate as new fears flickered up. The simple fact that those horrific memories were Drift's only knowledge of sparklings. He'd never been one. He'd never seen one that wasn't about to die.

Wing countered with images of sparklings playing around the feet of their creators, chasing the occasional bug that made its way down from the surface. Sparklings growing up, becoming craftsmechs in the city and Knights in the Citadel. The dark jet pressed against his mate, chirring softly.

He _wanted_ this sparkling. Wanted to raise it. Love it. Watch it grow and become something.

He felt Drift began to give. The grounder wasn't nearly so sure, but he could deny his mate nothing, not even this.

Wing purred, nuzzling close, flooding the bond with warmth. He wanted to see this sparkling become a Knight. Wanted to see it wielding a Great Sword of its own. Tilting his helm, the dark jet's golden optics met Drift's red.

This would work, he promised silently.

Slowly, Drift nodded. He didn't know what he was getting into, but he'd do it for Wing.

They tensed as the door opened, but relaxed when it was only Redline who walked in and locked the door behind him. The medic sat behind his desk and motioned the young couple to sit across from him. "Do you have questions yet?"

Wing settled into a chair, keeping his fingers twined with his mate's. "I'm sure half a dozen or more will hit me later." He looked at Drift, knowing his mate probably had some questions he'd want to ask. The grounder looked more than a bit lost.

"Never seen a sparkling or carrier live long enough to pay attention," Drift mumbled. "Sparked mech."

Wing tightened his grip on Drift's hand, stroking his thumb over his mate's fingers. "Tell us what to expect, what Drift can expect, while he's carrying. Physical, emotional... Everything."

The medic nodded and databurst them a batch of files to review as they had questions or time.

"You can expect odd cravings for solids. These will be materials that you are not consuming enough of to produce the protoform and are being harvested from your frame. Indulge them. The supplements I gave Wing are the basics. Every protoform is a little different. You can expect mood swings and intensely violent reactions to anything you perceive as a threat, even if it wasn't before. Likely the most obvious change will be to your frame. In roughly a metacycle and a half, assuming I have the new spark's age correct at two, your lower frame should begin to reconfigure to have room to build the protoform. When that happens, anyone who sees you will know you are carrying."

"Which means no one here can see me for ... how long?" Drift asked.

"At least five metacycles, between the carrying stage and recovery stage where your frame reconfigures to its original design," Redline supplied.

"It helps that you're not the most social of mechs," Wing added, leaning against Drift's shoulder. "No one really expects you to socialize, more or less."

"They still _see_ me more days than not," Drift pointed out. "If I can't be seen, I can't be in the Citadel at all. My duties, chores, everything we'll have to trade off or you'll have to do. And you know how much Dai Atlas likes sticking me in the sewers when he forgets I hate heights."

"It will be worth it," Wing insisted. "It will all be worth it."

Uncertainty and confusion flickered across the bond from Drift, but he didn't question the statement.

"You will require more energon, more recharge, and for Primus' sake, don't get into any fights," Redline locked optics with Drift. "If you're damaged, the sparkling is likely to be lost and I may not be able to save you either."

Red optics cycled in surprise before Drift nodded his understanding.

"When you receive a warning of separation beginning on your HUD, you will have less than six joors to get here, or to the hospital in the city," Redline said seriously. "While it _should_ progress safely without interference, there is very little in the literature or my experienced about a sparked mech carrying."

"I'll fly him here if necessary," Wing chirped. "Few are faster than I am in the air." Black wings flared. The dark jet radiated determination that he _would_ get Drift there as fast as his turbines could take him if it was necessary. Probably even if it wasn't.

~Six joors, lover,~ Drift chuckled silently. ~That's a _long_ time to make the distance.~

"I'm sure you will," Redline agreed, well experienced with the tenacity of both mechs before him. "Other than greater energon and recharge needs, you should see little change in the next metacycle. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to comm me," he databurst them both a private comm code, one that came with a heavy encryption. It wouldn't keep a determined comm specialist out, but it would be good against most. "I will warn you what I told Wing. If you are caught, I will deny any knowledge."

~Still.~ Wing leaned over to rub his cheek against Drift's. ~I'm allowed to be paranoid.~

The dark jet nodded to Redline, entering the comm frequency into his database. "We will, and we understand."

"Good. Now what should I tell Dai Atlas when he wonders what happened to Drift?" Redline asked.

"Pushing himself too hard and not getting enough fuel," Wing replied promptly. "Running on fumes."

Redline nodded. Drift grunted, annoyed but agreeing by his silence.

"Then scat, and start working out how you're going to survive the next vorn," Redline shooed them.

The dark jet nodded. He tilted his helm at Drift. ~Ready to head back to our quarters?~

~Yes,~ he agreed and stood, still more than a bit numb from the past joor and willing to follow his mate's lead.

Wing pressed his shoulder against his mate's, guiding the other mech back through the corridors to their quarters. As soon as the door closed behind them, he was pressed against Drift's dark frame, soon wrapped in Drift's arms and kissed.

Drift wanted to overload, to forget the news he'd just gotten for a little while.

The dark jet purred, rubbing against him, hands gliding over black and gray armor to find all the really sensitive spots. Slender wings fluttered out for attention. Wing slowly backed toward the berth, tugging Drift after him.


	11. Between Now and Hiding

Wing dreaded these orns. He was to spar with his manipulative creator. The first time he'd seen Axe since he'd learned Drift was carrying his sparkling. Wing made sure his field and body language gave nothing away other than the aura of one well-fragged as he entered the training arena, easing onto the arena floor to begin warming up. He watched Axe discreetly from the corner of one optic.

His creator was watching him sharply; judging, gauging, trying to find something he didn't already know.

Despite that being perfectly normal from Axe, now that he actually had a major secret, it was unsettling.

Finishing his warmup, Wing turned to face his creator, holding his swords in a ready stance. He watched, wary but ready, as Axe stepped into the circle with him, his designation-sake sparring weapon out. Once again Wing wondered how many about to extinguish had mistaken the real one for this near-perfect replica. Though even the duller-edged training pole-ax had enough mass behind it that Axe could easily bludgeon a mecha to deactivation.

"How is your mate doing?" Axe asked in a conversational tone that didn't fool his creation in the least.

"Drift is fine," Wing answered, eying Axe's weapon with the wariness it deserved. He'd been swatted halfway across the room by it more than once while sparring with the larger mech.

"What happened?" Axe moved, making an easy swing for Wing's shoulder.

"Energy drain. Drift driving himself too hard again." Wing blocked with one sword, trying to get around the ax to land a blow of his own. "Seems to be a habit of his, either from the near-constant training and practicing or fragging me into the berth, or a combination of the two."

Axe snorted, a sound of genuine amusement as he twisted out of the way. "He takes after my mate that way. He is still obedient to you?"

Wing puffed a bit. "Even if he wants to argue with me, one dose of that wide-opticked look you hate so much will get him to melt and agree to anything. Putty in my hands."

"Good," the large mech purred, working around to swing at Wing's midsection. "You would do well to keep him under control. There is entirely too much fire in his spark for his own good."

"That fire is what makes him so intriguing, and so fragging good in the berth," Wing replied, dodging the blow and darting in low. He just missed hitting one of Axe's legs.

"Believe me, I know," the big mech laughed and swung again, a blow that Wing ducked under. "You are not that different from your carrier, you know."

"Aside from being smaller," was the cheeky retort. Taking advantage of his smaller size, and a quick burst from his nacelles, Wing managed to dart under the bigger mech and tag him from behind.

"And cheeky," Axe retorted with a sharp swing of the flat of his blade that sent Wing tumbling helm over pedes. "You're good, creation, but not _perfect_. Yet."

Wing had been swatted around many times by his creators. Tucking in helm and limbs, he rolled to his pedes quickly enough to avoid another swat. "I'm working on that, though!" The dark jet came in as if going high, then dropped and went for Axe's legs and ankles. He'd pulled that on Dai Atlas once, and it had been very funny watching the deep blue mech flail before landing on his face. It had been worth having to hide from Dai Atlas' temper for the next two orns.

It worked on Axe, this time, though the black triple changer was faster to counter-balance himself with his weapon and thrusters. It was enough to leave him open for a second strike, however.

Taking advantage of the opening, Wing struck again, fast and as hard as he could. Darting out of range, the dark jet turned to watch his saner creator clatter to the ground, stunned by the double strike. He remained there for a moment, blinking at Wing.

"Sneaky little glitch," he rumbled, praise and threat all in one as he got to his pedes and got serious.

"Considering who I'm facing, better to be sneaky than overconfident!" Wing dropped into a guard stance, balanced lightly on his pedes, ready to either strike or bolt. "Sneaky I can usually get away with!"

A gleeful glint of violence crossed Axe's features as all hint of playfulness dropped away.

 _Oh, slag_ , was what crossed Wing's mind. He knew he was in for it now. Gritting his dentas and tucking in his wings as close as they could go, he braced himself for the flurry that was to come. He always thought of Dai Atlas as the fast one, because he liked to grab at random moments, but here in the sparring circle it was Axe you really needed to watch out for.

The first swing he managed to block, the second was dodged. The third caught his ankle as he leapt out of the way and sent him tumbling.

Wing managed to turn tumble into controlled roll, springing back to his pedes just in time to deflect another strike. It sent him skidding backward, heel plates scraping sparks on the floor, but at least he managed to stay upright. Gold optics darted rapidly over the blur that Axe had become, searching almost desperately for an opening that he knew was most unlikely to happen.

The next blow landed squarely against Wing's side, buckling plating and cracking internal struts.

Wing yelped, the strength of the blow again sending him flying. That was the disadvantage of taking on a larger mech; Wing was smaller and lighter, so the greater strength of a larger opponent could swat him around like a ball if he wasn't careful. 

Managing to stop before he hit the wall, Wing attempted to defend himself, but he already knew it was futile. Axe came at him with a burst of speed and a strike that connected with his undamaged side, caving the armor in and cracking more internal supports before slamming him into the far wall.

Wing cried out a second time, losing his grip on his practice swords. The dark jet went to his knees, arms wrapped around himself, hunched over. After a moment he managed to raise his helm, gold optics spotting a black blur coming his way.

"I yield! I yield!" Wing managed to get out, hoping Axe would stop this time. The dark jet could never tell if the surrender would be accepted or ignored in any given match. It was worth the try at this stage, when he had no hope of defending himself anymore.

A rush of relief flooded him when the black blur stabilized into his carrier once more. 

Deep blue optics flashed, taking in the damage and the posture, and Axe nodded, turning to put his practice ax away. "You are good, but you are not _that_ good."

Wing almost collapsed in a heap with relief as Axe accepted his surrender. Slowly, the battered jet picked himself up, staggering to his pedes. He managed to retrieve his practice swords and put them away before making his way out of the room.

"I'm getting better," he retorted. "I just need practice. And time."

"Which you are receiving," Axe replied before Wing disappeared behind the closing door.

* * *

Drift nuzzled his very happily sated mate, the bond humming with _pleasure-contentment_ as they cleared up under a shower of solvent. "Can we go out today?"

"Certainly," Wing replied, cuddling closer to Drift, spreading his wings out under the solvent spray. The solvent felt very nice on his control surfaces and the flat planes of his wings. "It'd be nice to get out into the city for a while."

"There's a new artist in the Shaku market I think you'd like," Drift murmured, a teasing, playful edge to his emotions, along with a bit of uncertainty.

"Oh?" Dark audial fins flared out, reflecting the jet's interest. Golden optics lifted to meet Drift's deep red. "Sounds like a good place to start. Once my legs decide they want to cooperate again." Wing shifted his weight, testing his balance.

"She makes ... pretty things," Drift said vaguely as he put some focus on buffing the visible paint transfers from his mate. "That stuff you're always looking at."

Nacelle pinions pricked up. "Then I would love to see her work," Wing purred, reaching for another buffing cloth and working on Drift's frame. They drifted into silence as they worked, content in the other's presence, health and good mood.

* * *

Wing happily leaned against Drift as they walked through the city streets, a concession to Drift's hatred of flying and their opposing alt modes. The Shaku market was on the far side of New Crystal City, far enough that they'd taken a transport most of the distance. As a neighborhood market it was small, but the vendors were all from within walking distance.

Bright gold optics took in the surrounding city. It wasn't often that Wing ventured this far from the Citadel; Knights were rare sights here, so the two of them walking down the street, Great Swords glinting in the city lights, were attracting stares. Wing mostly ignored the looks. Drift quietly preened.

Their first stop was a confection shop. It didn't have any jellies, but they had come for a snack. Two paste filled confections and Drift guided Wing towards the far end, where a good sized shop had a fair number of mecha milling about.

The dark jet hummed happily as he nibbled at his confection, savoring the taste. He followed his mate, one wing flicking out and then pulling back in as he took in the sights of the market. Noticing the crowd, curiosity seeped into his field and through their bond as he realized that was where they were headed.

A little closer and he realized that this merchant didn't just specialize in 'pretties' as Drift had put it, but in collars and other jewelry for marking another as claimed.

Wing's optics lit up, and he hurried over to have a look at the offered selection. The dark jet slid around a larger mecha, who turned to snarl at him before catching the baleful glow of Challenger of Ways' hilt gem and recognizing a Knight of Shadow. Wing paid no attention to the other mech, humming softly as he inspected the items on display. They ranged from simple chain loops to elaborate full frame designs that doubled as bondage aids.

He could feel Drift's amusement at his excitement as the dark Knight hung a bit further back.

One of the collars caught Wing's optic, and he leaned forward to study it. Red, gold, orange, and black gems glittered under the market lights. Imagining those vivid colors against Drift's dark armor, Wing started to purr. The fiery colors would show wonderfully against the gray and black.

"Would the Knight like to see it on his lover?" a rich green and blue femme asked politely from just outside arm's reach.

"Would love to," Wing replied, stretching out a tendril of thought through their bond to lure Drift closer, looking over his shoulder to give his mate that look Drift called the "lost little puppy optics" at the same time.

With a long suffering sound the dark Knight moved forward and stood, his helm bowed to expose the back of his neck and allow the collar with its long bib of jewels to be closed around his neck.

Wing adjusted the collar and set the light magnetic clips to hold it in place, then took a step back, tilting his helm slightly to one side. His purr increased in volume as he sent Drift an image of what he saw, the bright gems against the dark armor. It looked stunning.

~I don't know about that, but ... it's not _too_ bad,~ Drift grudgingly consented. It was more than a bit gaudy for him, but it made Wing so blasted happy.

"I love it," the dark jet purred, fishing in his subspace pocket for his credit stick.

~You'd better be willing to wear something of mine,~ Drift grumbled as the merchant smiled brightly and made the transaction.

Somehow Wing managed to flutter his optics at Drift. ~Like what?~ he purred in response, tilting his helm toward the displayed items.

The dark Knight laughed, shaking his helm before his gaze swept over the offerings. He looked at Wing several times, picturing various items, from a simple chain collar with a red stone in a tiny chainmail bib to gemstone ones similar to what he wore before landing on an elaborate brass collar with a bib of chains attached to two intricate crescent moons, supporting between them a delicately-shaped star or flower centered with a red gem. Below it hung a second, smaller star or flower shape, bearing another glittering red jewel. The cabochon-cut stones caught the light as if glowing from within, their color matching Drift's optics.

He hummed and lifted the elegant object up before turning to Wing expectantly.

Wing looked at the item, admiring it for a moment before chirring softly and tilting his helm, allowing his mate to settle it around the dark jet's neck. It gleamed against his armor, the black background showing off the delicate designs of the piece as it magnetized in place.

"Yes, that suits you nicely," Drift purred. ~Though I must admit a simple red one with a leash would be even better.~

~Not straight red,~ Wing warned, going serious for a moment. ~Members of Shogun's harem wear red collars, and the last thing I want to do is get on his bad side.~ Memories slid across the bond, of what had happened the last time someone crossed Shogun where that group of seven mechs and femmes had been concerned.

An optic ridge was raised, but the warning was accepted. Red with a band of orange-gold along the center came with the amended image even as Drift turned to pay for the jewelry.

Wing relaxed, his purr resuming. He reached up to lightly run his fingers over the center gem of his collar, watching his mate. So simple in so many ways, especially in how he marked what was his, including himself. Deep red, the color of his spark, permeated every such choice. From changing his optics to this collar, to the simple one ... the red always matched his spark.

It was sweet in many ways, the simplicity in thought made him so much easier to control, yet it also made him much more difficult to push past the few true moral lines he had. Yet once a behavior or thought was set, it would stay.

Wing smiled, leaning against Drift's shoulder, his purr vibrating through both of them. ~Where to now?~ Wing cooed, his optics sweeping the market.

~Perhaps our little hideaway?~ he purred in return and guided them out of the stall. It was an expensive day already, credits they should not have spent in truth, but also likely to be the last time they could indulge for a very long time. The thing growing inside him would see to that. Illicit as it was, there would be no support from the city. Rare as sparklings were, they would pay black market prices for most supplies to avoid discovery. And all that was before the cost of having him vanish for several metacycles.

~Sounds good,~ Wing crooned, following Drift out of the market. They would still have to cross the city to get to their den, though. Since their bond had been discovered, the pair had finished building their hideaway and had been stocking it with supplies. Extra energon, supplements Drift would need later, and other things that would come in handy later. Wing had even managed to secure some metal-mesh pillows and covers for the berth.

All in all, it was quite comfortable and would be viable to remain hidden inside for a solid metacycle already.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Wing combat-booted, bringing him to wakefulness almost instantly at Drift's gasp and sudden movement on the berth and out from under him. His optics zeroed in on his mate, who was sitting up, one hand over his spark chamber and very wide, over-bright optics. The bond was flooded with _shock-can't be-oh Primus_.

Dark wings and armor plates stood on end as Wing was almost immediately in a crouch, ready to spring. It took him a nanoklik to settle down, reaching out to touch Drift's arm. ~What is it?~ he asked, worry threading through the bond.

~It ... it ... I heard it.~ Drift stammered back, the memory of a very distinct personality, playful and already defiant, reaching out to him with a not-quite-word of greeting with it.

Golden optics widened, and any thought of a threat was immediately forgotten. Wing leaned closer, excitement leaking through the bond. ~You heard it? Our sparkling?~ Dark wings fluttered out, trembling with happiness.

In reply Drift opened the bond fully on his side, offering Wing what he was getting in real time. The sensations weren't words yet, but they were a bit more than simple emotions.

It _knew_ when it felt Wing that there was a new presence in its world too, and reached out to him with _curiosity-welcome_.

Wing replied with _welcome-awe-joy_ , his golden optics going wide. The dark jet was all but bouncing next to Drift. Anyone who might have caught a glimpse of him would have been able to tell that Wing was overjoyed about something.

"You are entirely too excited about this," Drift chuckled, amused at Wing's reaction.

The three-way communication was enough to tire the new spark out and it settled into silence once more, though as he had been for several decaorns now, Drift was well aware of its state.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Wing's whole body went through an odd, happy wiggle, wings fluttering like an Earth butterfly. " _Our sparkling_ communicated with us!"

Drift grunted, though there was amusement in his field as the bond dimmed to the regular level. "I still think you're entirely too excited by it."

Wing nuzzled him, leaning against Drift's chest. An image of the dark jet being in the same state sometime in the future sneaked across the bond.

"We don't even have _this_ one in a frame and you're already planning another?" Drift laughed playfully, even as it crossed his processors, and the bond, for that future to be as soon as Drift could be seen in public after the separation.

Wing tilted his helm. "What's wrong with that?" His shoulder spires and nacelle pinions perked up, the dark jet shifting to press himself against Drift.

"Cost, raising two at once ... not having this one or the other do without because it has a sibling...." Drift shrugged, even as the idea of Wing carrying thrilled him on a level he didn't care to think about.

The dark jet tilted his helm, flicking out a wing to tap gray and black armor. "We'll manage," he murmured, tucking his helm under Drift's chin and purring contentedly as he was embraced. "We'll manage."

"You're on your own when you tell Redline," Drift warned, even as they both knew he would do it, and happily.

Wing chuckled. "It'll be worth it to see his expression before he explodes. As long as I make sure to duck the flying objects."

"Just remember, _you_ wanted it," Drift rumbled, too amused to worry about the difficulties.

Wing chuckled. "I'll remember." He settled down, letting his optics turn off.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Shaking out his wings, Wing slipped into the den, humming softly as he checked to make sure he hadn't been followed before opening the door and slipping inside. He'd taken a job as a courier to earn extra credits, making several deliveries to various places around the city. With his speed and the fact that he was a Knight, he got the best courier jobs, the ones that paid the most credits for the least actual work.

After locking the door behind him, Wing turned, looking around for his mate. For a split nanoklik he felt a burst of panic when he didn't see Drift, only to feel amusement filter over the bond.

"In the storeroom, lover," Drift called out.

The dark jet trotted across the main room of their lair, into the storeroom. It was filling up with items the pair had been squirreling away since finding out Drift was carrying. On one side was a growing pile of items the sparkling would need.

Spotting Drift, Wing bounced over to the other dark mech, letting out a chirr of greeting and was swept up in an embrace and fierce kiss. It was the sense of welcome across the still-fresh bond with his sparkling that overjoyed him the most.

"Doing inventory. We need to shift what we're buying," Drift nuzzled him.

"How so?" Wing returned the nuzzle, then shifted against Drift as he noticed a change in the familiar contours of his mate's body. Pulling back a little, Wing looked Drift over, flaring his audial fins. "And it'll be me doing the shopping... You are not leaving this den for a while."

Red optics flicked before a quick system inventory informed Drift of what Wing saw and he groaned. "I hope you're ready to take on double chores," he grumbled with a resigned huff. "There are enough supplies for both of us to carry," he motioned to the collection of mineral supplements and extra energon than what they were entitled to as Knights. "We need to focus on what the sparklings will need as they grow. Apparently the nanite conversation rate for a sparkling is poor compared to a full mecha's self-repair systems. They go through energon fast too."

Wing nodded, making careful note of what his new priorities should be in New Crystal City's markets. "I can handle the double chores... I got stuck with them for over a vorn after I brought you back to the city. And it will be worth it." He smoothed one palm over Drift's torso.

A low hum vibrated Drift's entire frame as he leaned lightly into the touch and reached to kiss Wing again. Across the two bonds now attached to Wing's spark came the unique sensation of Drift's _arousal-need_ and the new spark's entirely different foundation of desire for more of Wing's spark-energy to strength itself and the bond with its other creator.

Wing chirr-trilled, communicating through both bonds how eager he was to indulge both needs. He stepped closer, leaning against Drift, pressing his frame against his bonded's.

A low, rumbling growl escaped Drift's systems as he pushed Wing against the nearest wall and pressed his knee between his mate's legs. Wing braced his back against the wall, flaring his wings against the cool surface. He lifted one leg, wrapping it around Drift's hips, valve cover already open and dripping with lubricant.

In their agreed effort for a flier, this had become a rare pleasure for them both. It was almost always Wing inside Drift. Now with Drift's need to reclaiming his status, to _not_ be on the receiving end, the first thrust was quick and violent.

His denta bared against Wing's throat, nipping and growling as he thrust hard and fast, pistoning his hips against Wing's with a savage abandon.

Wing rolled his helm back, baring his throat. He rocked into each thrust, taking Drift in deep. The calipers of his valve expertly worked Drift's spike in time to the gray and black mech's hard thrusts. Black fingers hooked into Drift's spaulders, reached around to scrape over his canopy.

The charge crackled between them, driven by Drift's need and Wing's passion. It was intense enough that they nearly didn't hear the thudding knock on the vault-like door.

The growl Wing let out sounded more like a rabid beast than a thinking mecha. Gold optics flickered toward the door, his grip tightening on Drift. He was inclined to ignore whoever was out there, but whoever it was would only get more annoying until they were acknowledged.

Drift was more than inclined to ignore it. His mouth found Wing's as he continued to drive into his mate, deep, fast and hard enough to cause sparks where their sensor nodes were scraped despite the incredibly thick lubricant coating the passage.

Wing loved it, both the pleasure and the pain. Both were intoxicating, driving his charge higher and higher very quickly. His fingertips caught in Drift's circuitry as they slipped into armor seams, alternating sharp tugs with long strokes. The dark jet shifted slightly for a better angle, the tip of Drift's spike jamming hard against the cluster of sensors at the top of Wing's valve and drawing a sharp cry from the dark jet's throat.

One last slam into that top set of nodes and Wing screeched in an overload that rushed through him, exploding across his field and plating into his mate. With a final deep thrust Drift lost himself as well, his roar echoing in the stone room as he flooded his mate with hot transfluid to soothe the scraped nodes even as it poured more energy into them.

Wing's fingers dug into Drift's seams and circuitry, his back arching, leaving streaks of black on the rock wall. Golden optics flared white. Then the dark jet slumped as he came down from that incredible high, trusting Drift and the wall to hold him up until his legs decided to cooperate again.

Another loud pounding knock drew an irritated growl from Wing's vocalizer as it interrupted the moment.

"Should _deal_ with that," Drift rumbled as he pulled out far earlier than he wanted to, shifting to lower Wing to the ground while he went to punch their unwanted guest in the faceplates.

Wing scrambled after his mate, grabbing Drift's arm. " _I_ will deal with it. You can't be seen, remember?" He pressed one palm over where their sparkling resided.

A flare of frustration at his condition responded, but Drift consented without actual objection, stepping back and allowing his mate to move forward. "I'll watch from the berthroom," he grumbled.

Wing leaned forward to nuzzle his mate's cheek, purring very softly. Then he headed for the door, glancing at the monitor. "Who the slag is it?" he demanded grumpily.

"Thorn. Who the pit else knows where this door is?" came the irritated reply.

Wing growled in response, opening the door and slipping out into the tunnel rather than letting Thorn inside. Gold optics flared at the larger mech as Wing let the door close behind him, making no attempts whatsoever to hide the lubricant and transfluid staining his thighs.

"Stop growling at me," the taller jet snapped. "If your comm worked out here you'd see less of me. And I'd have fewer dents."

"What the frag is it this time?" Wing crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Thorn. "I was in the middle of something!"

"You're always in the middle of something with _him_ ," Thorn sneered, his golden-veined wings flaring in irritation. "Master Dai Atlas wants you and _him_ breems ago."

"What's Dai Atlas' problem this time?" Wing growled, wracking his processor. There was no way Drift was going anywhere near the Citadel until their sparkling separated and Drift's frame returned to normal.

"How am I supposed to know?" Thorn threw up his arms. "Just get your afts in front of him, take the beating and get on with 'facing your plaything."

Wing bristled, his armor plates starting to stand on end. "Drift is my _mate_ , not my plaything. Remember that. And considering the mood he's in right now, putting him in the same room as Dai Atlas would be a very bad idea. I like my mate in one piece, thank you very much."

Across the bond Drift gave a small burst of panic that almost instantly went to planning.

"And denying our _Master_ is a brighter idea?" Thorn bristled, his own sense of self-preservation kicking in. "Just move it."

Wing sent a querying thread of thought through the bond to Drift, leveling a glare at Thorn. "Eventually. Get lost."

~Working out options,~ Drift replied, a sense of 'you won't like' filtering with the words.

Red optics narrowed. "I'm not taking a beating for you two," he glared back. "Not without one pit of a payment. Your pet for an orn would do."

Wing's armor was immediately on end, the dark jet growling dangerously. "No way in the _Pit_ ," he snarled at the taller mech. "Drift is _my bonded_. You are _not_ touching him."

"Then get 'your mech' out here and let's _go_ already," Thorn snapped in exasperation, ready to push Wing out of the way to get in their den and pull Drift out himself. "He can't look any more disgraceful than you right now."

The smaller mech growled, a deep and dangerous sound. "Leave us alone."

A frustrated sound escaped Thorn as his engines roared. Taloned fingers slashed at Wing's face with every intention of blinding the shorter black jet.

Wing ducked under the slash, launching himself right at Thorn's midsection. Among the things he'd been picking up from Drift after their bonding had been some of the nastier ways to brawl, and he put what he'd learned to good use. Dark fingers dug into seams, ripping and tearing at the wiring. One hand reached around for a gold wing, yanking hard in a direction the joint was not meant to bend.

Immediately he felt the disadvantage of his shorter but heavier frame against the taller, more limber one he'd tackled. Thorn could fold himself in half and keep bending. Wing felt sharp claws dig into his wing joins, find purchase and tear outward, nearly ripping the slender lengths out by their roots.

Wing didn't have claws, but he did carry blades. One of the small daggers he carried made an appearance, and he promptly jammed it into the most sensitive sensor cluster he could reach, twisting the blade. He put his whole weight into yanking hard on Thorn's wing, hearing metal scream in protest as the wing was nearly ripped right off the taller jet's frame. Twisting, Wing struck again with the dagger, driving it deep into a seam and then dragging it down almost the full length of the seam.

Energon flowed freely, making them both slick as they twisted. Thorn's sharp denta found one of Wing's hands and bit down, shearing and crushing delicate mechanisms in the complex appendage as he shook his helm, trying to tear it off. A free hand found Wing's throat and dug into it, cutting at energon, coolant and electrical lines.

Though he didn't allow himself to be distracted by it, Wing felt Drift's _fear-rage_ crash through their bond and the knowledge that his mate was going to be in this fight very quickly.

Wing let out a snarl, driving his blade deep into Thorn's hip joint several times, shredding the mechanisms and wiring. Twisting to free himself of the claws in his throat, Wing accepted the nicked, cut and torn lines. He braced one pede against the stone floor and shoved, managing to slam Thorn back-first into the wall hard enough to stun the slender jet. One of his own nacelle pinions crumpled against the stone, but Wing ignored the pain, stabbing into Thorn's hip to disable the leg several more times before going after his shoulder joint.

He felt Thorn panic, felt that distinct edge in the mech as he went from fighting to fighting for his spark. Energy crackled around them as Shield of the Sky was charged for a killing blow.

Only Thorn went abruptly limp and a jacked-up demand to calm down, that it was okay pushed through the bond into Wing's awareness.

Wing disentangled himself, venting heavily. His damaged wings were sending pain sizzling through his sensor net, one hand was crushed and useless, and his black armor was shredded in several places. Energon ran down his frame, dripping off onto the stone of the tunnel floor.

"Redline is going to pitch a fit," was all the dark jet could think to say as he looked down at himself, then at the crumpled shape of Thorn.

"Does he live?" Drift asked simply, blaster in hand and battle focused like nothing Wing had witnessed for himself before.

Wing debated for a moment. "As annoying as he is, killing him would raise questions I'd really rather not answer. So let the nuisance live." The dark jet flinched as he automatically tried to stretch out a wing to his mate, making the torn appendage send a wave of pain through him. "I'll have to drag his aft out of the tunnels."

"Like the pit you are," Drift growled as he reached down and lugged Thorn over his shoulder. "I'm carrying, not incapacitated. I'll haul him half way out, past most of the intersections. You can walk to the entrance and call Redline."

Wing watched his mate, but didn't say anything. Instead he let out a soft chirr, falling into step beside Drift, ignoring the steady sound of energon dripping into stone as they walked. This was going to be messy, but at least this wasn't the first ugly fight he'd gotten into. It was all but expected among Knights to mangle each other on a somewhat regular basis.

Still, it wasn't going to be a good orn.

* * *

Wing groaned as he booted, the slow, enforced kind that meant he had been in major surgery and Redline was _pissed_. Memories flooded back. That Drift was finally showing his condition. Being interrupted during a delicious interface with Drift by Thorn. His creator demanding he and Drift appear before him. A serious fight with Thorn that could have killed them both if Drift hadn't been there.

The verbal reaming out Redline gave him over the comm and then on the entire trip to the Citadel.

Gold optics finally booted, giving Wing a good view of the medbay ceiling before the dark jet turned his helm to look around. He could see the red and white shape of Redline not far away, chasing another Knight who'd been in for repairs out of the room, and Thorn was on another berth across the room. Well-honed reflex drew his attention to the deepest shadow in the room and the glowing points of blue well up in it.

Axe.

 _Uh-oh_ was basically what went through Wing's cortex as he spotted those blue optics glowing in the shadows. Dealing with Dai Atlas would have been bad enough. Dealing with Axe was not something Wing had wanted to deal with.

The strong, supportive brush of love across _both_ his bonds was a welcome sensation in that moment.

"So how'd it start _this_ time?" Redline grumbled as he stalked over and began checking Wing's vitals.

Wing bristled at the memory. "He thought I would let him near _my bondmate_ as payment if he did a 'favor' for me." Acid oozed over the words, and black armor puffed out. " _No one_ touches Drift but me."

Redline snorted at that, as did the shadow in the corner.

"You'd think he'd know better by now," the medic grumbled. "You're repaired. Now go deal with your creator's bellowing before he kills someone."

"Which one?" Wing grumped, picking himself off the berth and shaking himself to settle his armor. The new repairs had that tight, itchy feeling all new parts had before they were broken in, which only made the dark jet crankier.

"That one," he jerked a wrench at Axe's shadow," isn't bellowing."

"Yet," Wing retorted. He tilted his helm, flaring his audial fins. "Where is Dai Atlas now?"

"The challenge room," Axe spoke as he stepped out of the shadows. "Do call your mate. It'll take you both to handle him."

Wing winced, taking the long way to the door, very casually approaching the large open windows along one side of the medical bay. "What's managed to get under his armor _this_ time?"

"Your extended absences," Axe scowled. "And my unwillingness to carry again."

"Considering how unstable Dai Atlas has gotten, I can't blame you for not being willing," Wing replied. He glanced over at the door as it opened to admit Shogun.

The red Knight had clearly just come from an encounter with Dai Atlas. One shoulder was sparking wildly, energon dripping from motionless fingers.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Wing took two steps toward the window and transformed, igniting his turbines at the same moment. A nanoklik later he'd vanished among the city towers with Axe's bellows disappearing with his contrails.

~Wing?~ Drift's presence became sharp in the bond, even the little one was concerned, though it didn't know why.

~On my way back, lover,~ Wing replied. ~Dai Atlas is on the warpath, and I would rather not have to undergo a complete rebuild. Both of us are going to have to lay low for a while.~

That was enough to settle Drift, at least somewhat. ~How long is 'a while' this time?~

~Rough guess, two to three decaorns before it'll be safe to show my wings in the Citadel without having them ripped off,~ the dark jet replied, entering the tunnel system at a different point and making his way through the maze of passages to the lair entrance.

~Any clue why he lost it this time?~ Drift asked, a sense of greeting waiting for Wing once the door opened.

The dark jet slipped inside, immediately bouncing over to snuggle against his mate. ~My continuous and lengthy absences, and Axe's refusal to carry another sparkling. Not that I blame Axe for being unwilling, considering how unstable Dai Atlas has become.~

"An empty nest and cold mate," Drift murmured, welcoming his mate with strong arms and a willing frame. "No wonder he's angry."

"He's always angry. This just made it worse." Wing slid eagerly into his mate's arms, purring as he leaned against Drift's frame. His purr was intense enough to vibrate through his own frame and Drift's.

Drift hummed and claimed a kiss. "How long do you think he'll be sane enough to survive?"

"I really don't know." Wing flicked his shoulder pinions in a shrug, returning the kiss. He nudged the other Knight toward the berthroom, his optics gleaming playfully at his mate. It earned him a laugh, the bond alive with desire and intent as Drift suddenly scooped him up and over his shoulder for the short walk.

Wing squeaked in surprise, then relaxed with a laugh, his fingers already teasing along the seams of Drift's back armor and spaulders. A wing coyly slid out to brush its tip against Drift's helm as he admired the angle of his mate's aft.

"I'd ask what you'd like after the repairs earned defending me, but I think I know," Drift grinned as he tossed Wing off his shoulder and onto the berth before pouncing on him, his kiss demanding and spike already pressurizing between them.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Wing twitched as the bonds he had with his mate and creation flared unhappily. They were both stressed, and he'd learned a while ago that there was nothing he could do to sooth either of them. If it didn't result in a quick overload, any attention just irritated Drift, and he was more prone to punch than cuddle these days. Carrying definitely did _not_ agree with the grounder, not once his frame began to reformat and reduce his maneuverability.

Abruptly the creator-creation bond went frantic and the one with Drift completely mellowed with a sense of intense relief.

"Get Redline," Drift stalked out of the berthroom, his heavy frame far more boxy now with a protoform nearly as long as his arm inside him. "It's coming out."

Wing was moving before Drift had finished the sentence. Excitement and nervousness seeped through the bond as the dark jet wove through the tunnels to where comms would actually work. As soon as he got a signal, he used the encrypted private comm frequency Redline had given him when they'd first discovered that Drift was carrying.

A ping of acknowledgement and acceptance was the only reply, used to keep the line secure. It meant it was safe to bring Drift in.

His mate was driving, albeit slowly, towards him. Something that managed to irritate the grounder all the more.

Wing replied with a ping of his own, then returned to Drift, hovering over his mate. He knew the grounder hated flying, but it might become necessary as they approached the Citadel, if only to get Drift to Redline without anyone else seeing. Wing slowly pushed calm and assurance through the bond, though he himself was almost vibrating with nervous excitement.

Half to Wing's surprise, Drift stopped and transformed near the entrance. "Just fly us," he muttered, turning to wrap his arms around Wing's neck and pressed close. ~Go, before I come to my senses.~

Wing chirred softly, pressing his forehelm to Drift's as he wrapped his arms securely around his mate. The jet spread wings and pinions, his engines rapidly revving to full power. He flew quickly but smoothly, taking a slightly longer route to the Citadel to avoid being spotted. He flew right into the medbay rather than landing just inside the perpetually-open windows, gold optics immediately seeking out Redline.

The large medic motioned them to follow into a private room, small but equipped for the separation with multiple monitors. The table was a bit large for Drift, but gave room for the sparkling to crawl around a bit without falling off if it was the active kind.

"Do you know its designation?" Redline glanced at the pair.

"Starcrossed," Drift supplied with a grunt, accepting the help up on the table. "Hyper and she's going to be trouble."

"And she'd always pick when we were trying to recharge to start wiggling around in there," Wing added with a snort, hovering next to the head of the berth, where he could see everything but be out of Redline's way. There was no way he was going to leave.

~Pit right you're staying,~ Drift grumbled at him as he settled, one hand reaching up to twine with Wing's as they both watched Redline set up. ~This is your fault you know.~

"How long ago was the first notice?" Redline asked.

"14 kliks ago," Drift supplied. "Wing got out and commed you right away."

Wing edged over as close as he could get. ~I'm proud to take responsibility for this, lover of mine,~ he replied, amused. "As soon as he told me it was time, I was out and in contact with you. Drift surprised me by asking to be flown here instead of driving."

"Then you have five joors and seven breems, give or take a few kliks, to relax and _wait_ ," the medic told them. "And yes, you can 'face him. Just not after the notice turns red."

Wing grinned at that. "Noted," he purred, tilting his helm toward his mate and was promptly tugged into a kiss as Drift's engine revved.

With a low chuckle Redline shook his helm and left the pair to their own devices. The monitors would let him know when he was needed.

* * *

Just over five and a half joors later, Wing hovered close to the berth, fingers twined with Drift's, his frame almost vibrating. Dark wings were clamped tightly to his back to stop them rattling against his back armor.

He had been dozing on the med berth next to Drift, curled into his side, when Redline had reappeared, unceremoniously shoving the jet off the berth. Wing had been indignant until he realized what was going on, then he'd forgotten to be irritated and concentrated fully on Drift. He was watching as armor plates began to shift, hand tightening on Drift's.

It was fascinating and disturbing all at once, watching a part of a mecha's anatomy come into view that usually only appeared due to damage, but for this it was to give _life_....

~Don't get all mushy on me,~ Drift growled at him, even as their sparkling chirred happily across the bonds.

It was at least as eager to be out of Drift as Drift was to have it out of him.

"It is proceeding smoothly," Redline told them, watching carefully but otherwise allowing the process to take its course.

~I'm allowed to be mushy if I want to be mushy,~ Wing replied with as much dignity as he could muster. Considering that he was practically vibrating and his pedes were actually several inches off the floor, the attempt was failing miserably. The jet peered into Drift's torso as the armor shifted aside, wanting his first glimpse of the new life they had created together.

Out of the tangle of wires, cables, tubes and moving plates a slender hand, the shiny black of all protoforms, wiggled its way free.

~That feels _so_ weird,~ Drift auto-suppressed a shudder.

~I can imagine,~ Wing replied, staring in utter fascination. His wings fluttered partway out of their tight tuck, the jet leaning forward for a better look. A hiss from Redline kept him from touching that tiny hand, but Wing's hand remained raised until Drift grabbed it and held it firmly against the berth.

A second hand appeared, then the top of a helm, smooth and rounded, pushed and clawed their way out of Drift's abdominal cavity as more parts shifted out of the way. Now they could both see the gooey lubricant-like fluid coating it.

All that was forgotten as a slender wing-strut unfolded as the slender protoform crawled further out, spreading its slimy coating into Drift's internals as it moved. Wing's optics went as wide as they could go, the jet making a welcoming chirr. He was fascinated and slightly in awe of what was happening, watching the birth of his sparkling.

~Beautiful,~ the dark jet murmured, utterly awed as it sank in that their creation was a jet. Everything they'd done, all that Drift had tolerated, had _worked_. Starcrossed would _fly_ ... and fly _fast_ if Wing was any judge.

The tiny being paused in its efforts to free itself to seek out the source of that sound and chirr-clicked back.

"Wing, bond-check on Drift. His processor functions have nearly flatlined," Redline spoke evenly.

Gold optics flared as Wing's attention abruptly refocused. Wing's gaze went out of focus for a long moment, his hand tightening on Drift's.

"He's in a trance state," the dark jet finally reported, sounding puzzled. One wing flicked slightly. "But I think he's fine..."

"Ah," Redline relaxed and focused fully on the sparkling's progress once more. "It happens on occasion when the carrier's programming believes they are a potential hazard if they feel the separation. Both of your creators are notorious for it."

Wing nodded his understanding, returning his attention to the sparkling squirming its way out of Drift's body cavity. The adult jet trilled softly, the trill ending in a series of soft clicks, welcoming the new life.

It periodically chirped or clicked in reply, but protocols kept it focused on moving upwards, to free itself of its carrier before its carrier started to pay attention to the physical world again.

A peep of distress escaped when it was nearly free as he realized one ankle joint was trapped between two tightening cables.

"You can free it, if you are _careful_ ," Redline allowed, his optics sharp and locked on the problem.

Wing nodded, easing forward. As carefully as he could, he slid his fingers between the cables and tugged them apart so the sparkling could free itself. A warm croon of reassurance rose from Wing's vocalizer, and he fluttered his pinions slightly.

With its final limb free the arm-long mass of slender limbs and too-small seeming chassis crawled further up its carrier's chassis to collapse on Drift's chest, directly over his spark, with a purr of exhausted satisfaction.

Wing almost vibrated as he withdrew his hands from Drift's internals, crooning at the tiny jetling. One hand hovered in the air, wanting to touch but not sure if he was allowed yet.

"Focus on Drift's internals," Redline suggested as he moved towards the top of the berth to scan the sparkling. "Make sure they withdraw without getting tangled or misplaced."

Reluctantly, the dark jet turned his attention to his mate's systems, moving for a better view. He watched as Drift's internals began to settle back into place, sneaking glances at the sparkling as Redline scanned it, then picked it up for a basic physical exam.

After a torturous klik the medic put the recharging sparkling back on its carrier's chest and smiled at Wing. "It seems all your efforts have been worth it. She is healthy, with a strong spark and solid airframe."

Wing puffed up. "She's beautiful," he murmured, gazing proudly at the recharging jetling. "I bet she'll be a handful to raise, but it will all be worth it." He reached out to very lightly run a fingertip over a tiny wing.

"With a designation like Starcrossed, you will definitely have your hands full," Redline chuckled, his optics focusing on Drift as the grounder's optics refocused and snapped to the new weight on his chest. "She has a strong spark and good protoform," he actually smiled. "You did well as a carrier."

Drift smiled, slow and a bit hesitant, as he lifted a hand to stroke down the sparkling's backstrut. On the other side of the bond, Wing was flooded by his mate's awe, amazement and no small amount of affection now that the little one wasn't inside him.

~She's beautiful, love,~ Wing whispered. He leaned down to lightly kiss his mate, then perched on the edge of the berth, gently stroking small wings.

Drift grunted acceptance of the statement, he knew Wing was just being Wing. ~As long as she's strong and smart.~

~She's going to be a fast flier, too, from the look of those wings,~ the dark jet commented, tracing a small wing. ~Next to impossible to catch in the air. She's going to be a handful to raise. Fast and smart and definitely a fiery little one.~

~Dreamer like you, too,~ Drift teased even as recharge protocols sought to claim him. ~She'll learn. No dreams, just fighting, obedience,~ he murmured, less than fully conscious.

"Let him rest, Wing," Redline's voice was quiet.

~We'll see,~ Wing whispered. He nodded to Redline, watching his mate slip into recharge. The dark jet gauged the situation for a moment before managing to settle himself on the edge of the berth, as close to Drift and Starcrossed as he could get. Settling in, Wing contented himself with watching his mate and creation recharge.


	12. Sneaking In

A decaorn or so after the separation of their creation Starcrossed, Wing slipped through the tunnels toward their lair. He was still wary about being followed, since Thorn was still determined to get the bottom of whatever was going on with the smaller jet. So far, Wing had managed to avoid being tailed.

About to open the heavy door, Wing paused. ~Mate of mine, is Starcrossed anywhere near the door?~

The tiny jet had managed to slip out once, and both of her creators had been scrambling to retrieve her before anything happened or anyone spotted her. Fortunately she was still a dozen vorns or more from being flight-worthy, but if early indications were anything to go by, they'd have to install a force field around their quarters to keep her in once she did.

~She's currently trying to fly,~ Drift grumbled back, along with an image of their creation, still only a lanky protoform, attempting to climb the storeroom shelves.

Wing chuckled. ~Determined little bitling, isn't she?~ He opened the door just enough for him to slip inside, quickly closing it after him. 

~Takes after both of us,~ Drift agreed ruefully with a touch of humor.

The dark jet trotted into the storeroom, chirring a greeting to his mate and creation. Drift rounded on him for a kiss and stroking hug, keeping most of his sensors on their creation while he enjoyed having his mate close.

Starcrossed chirred back, the thin bond with Wing echoing her pride at making it as high as she was ... the second shelf and angling for the third.

Wing returned the kiss, rubbing his cheek affectionately against Drift's and leaning against his mate's frame. Gold optics glowed warmly at their creation before the dark jet noticed something, looking down to examine his mate's frame. ~Your frame is back to normal,~ he observed after a moment, again leaning against Drift with a soft purr and enjoying the rush of _relief-pleasure_ his statement brought.

Right on the heels of that was a flare of desire as black hands found a sensitive seam and teased their way in.

"You are high," Wing chirped to Starcrossed, fluttering a wing and watching as she went for the next shelf. Pride and amusement slid along the bond he had with her, as well as the usual undercurrent of worry.

"Not fall, fly!" she chirred back at him.

The dark jet leaned into Drift's hands, all but melting against him. Equal desire answered Drift's, golden optics glowing warmly.

"Your engines aren't functional yet, and those wings are not meant for gliding," Wing replied, returning his attention to Starcrossed.

"It won't stop her," Drift chuckled ruefully, relaxing about it now that he had backup in catching her. ~Though if you want a little attention, she has yet to work out how to unlock the crib.~

Wing's purr deepened. ~Then we should take advantage of that before she figures out how,~ he crooned suggestively, one optic winking at his mate. ~After she works it out, we'll be too busy chasing after her!~

~After, we get a better lock,~ Drift smirked and let go of his mate to scoop their creation off the shelf, expertly containing the squirming mass of limbs as he walked to the berthroom. "Time for your creators to have some personal time, so it's time for you to take a nap."

Wing grinned at the protesting squawk and the wail of "No wanna!" as he followed his mate and creation to the berthroom. 

Oozing onto the berth, the dark jet watched as Starcrossed was placed in her crib, pouting up at her carrier until Drift reached down and stroked her from helm to aft with a gentle touch to each wing. He cycled his optics in surprise when she immediately dropped into a deep recharge and the smug satisfaction he felt from his mate at it.

"Found her stasis button," the dark grounder smirked as he stood and turned to his mate. "Same place as yours."

Wing chuckled. "Always a helpful discovery, and more useful on her than on me." He shifted his position, draping himself invitingly over the berth, wings half spread and optics half-lidded.

"Yes, I like _you_ very much aware," Drift purred and pounced, landing squarely on top of his mate and pressing into a heated kiss. ~Still want to try for a sibling so soon?~

"Much more fun when I'm conscious and can participate," Wing purred. ~And I do want another sparkling. I want to _carry_ one.~

~Better you than me,~ Drift rumbled as his chest plates unlatched and began to part. ~Even if it means _another_ half vorn without spiking you much.~

Wing grinned in response, his own chest armor unlocking. Orange light seeped out through the seams as the plates began to shift aside. Dark hands glided over Drift's armor, sliding into a transformation seam to tease the wiring underneath. ~You were a very good carrier.~

~Only because _you_ wanted to keep it so badly,~ Drift pointed out with the brutal honesty that had gotten him in trouble so often as a Decepticon. ~My creator protocols stop somewhere around 'feed it and don't let it get hurt.'~

Wing pouted at him, then slid a hand between Drift's parting chestplates to stroke the circuitry behind them, teasing over the sensitive nodes he found there. Pleasure flared over their bond, desire hot enough to scald chasing its tail.

~You know I could never deny you anything,~ Drift moaned, his optics dimming at the touch and his helm tipping back as his frame stilled, offering himself in pure vulnerability to the only mecha who had ever truly owned him.

~Oh, I know,~ Wing purred with a chuckle, tilting his own help to press nipping kisses along the exposed cables of Drift's throat. His fingers worked their way deeper into the delicate systems until his fingertips just brushed Drift's spark chamber.

A core deep shiver passed through Drift, one of his vulnerability, but also relishing in his own willingness to offer it, to be here, like this, and simply _enjoy_ it. Without command, his spark chamber spiraled open, letting loose a dozen leaders to dance along Wing's fingers and hands.

A shiver ran through Wing's entire frame at the contact. His own spark flared, sending out hair-thin feelers as far as they could reach, trying to connect with Drift's. The orange orb was practically flattened against the side of its own casing, as if trying to ooze out as the chamber spiraled open.

Reluctantly, Wing removed his hand from Drift's chest, wrapping his arms around his mate and pulling him closer. The first leaders connected with a rush of sensation that made them both moan and draw closer, the recent infrequency of their interfacing driving them to move quickly rather than savor it.

The dark jet's chamber opened all the way, releasing the red-tinted orange spark. Wing moaned deeply, his mouth seeking Drift's while one leg curled around his mate's hip. Their chests crashed together, need driving the merge more than desire. Wing's fingers dug into Drift's back seams as their sparks merged into one fiery red-orange orb. Gold optics flared, blind with ecstasy. Dark wings flared and fluttered, their tips beating a tattoo against the berth surface.

Awareness spiraled outward only to condense as the two became one in every way that mattered. Despite the offer and the want, it happened too fast to think of kindling until well into the merge, when they stabilized in the whole.

~Still want to try?~ The tint part that was Drift asked, willing but only because it was Wing.

~Yessssssssssssss,~ was the response, Wing's optics flaring brightly as the dark jet seized Drift's lips in a searing kiss.

Drift shuddered at the intensity of the desire and surrendered himself fully to it, offering his spark and whatever Wing needed for it to work.

* * *

Wing absently checked his chronometer, noting the three joors discrepancy from when he'd walked in, and reluctantly focused on the fact that it was time to have one of those serious talks he hated, largely because Drift didn't talk, he just made, or demanded, a choice be made. With a slight nudge he roused his sedate mate to the point that deep red optics flickered on and focused on him with a curious ping across the bond.

~Your frame is back to normal... You can be seen in public again,~ Wing murmured, shifting slightly and draping a wing over his mate. ~We can go back to the Citadel. But...~ Gold optics strayed over to Starcrossed's crib.

~We don't _have_ to,~ Drift followed his gaze, agreeing that it wouldn't be good. ~We've managed this far, living out here. With both of us mobile, we can stay here and just go in for duties.~

Wing considered that. ~You've got a point. Only Thorn knows where we are, and we can run him off when he does show up. We have plenty of supplies. One of us can stay to look after Star, and we can take turns.~

~Not that different from how it's working so far, except that I'll be handling my own duties while you watch her,~ Drift murmured. ~It feels safe out here. Easier to recharge.~

~No one can sneak up on us, and the tunnels are too small for certain insane triple changers to get into.~ Wing settled back, relaxing. ~You do make a very good point.~

~Good,~ Drift leaned into to kiss him, though he was worn out enough to be content to snuggle and doze back off soon. ~Saves us trying to sparkling proof our quarters too.~

~And these tunnels are, praise be to Primus, stable.~ Wing purred as he relaxed completely. ~You found the best possible spot when you located this cave.~

Drift actually purred at the praise, reveling in it this time as it was something he was proud of. ~Just be ready to have sole creator duties for a few decaorns while Dai Atlas and Axe vent their frustrations at not seeing me for nearly six metacycles. I don't expect my first few encounters are going to go my way.~

Wing nodded, his armor clamping tight to his frame. ~Noted,~ he murmured with an internal cringe. Redline was probably going to be seeing a _lot_ of Drift for a while.

~Just remember, if you need some recharge or to leave her alone, that stasis trigger will keep her down for no more than five joors. Then she'll be demanding attention. She comes out of forced stasis in the same mood you do.~

Wing nodded, making a face. He couldn't think of anyone who actually liked forced stasis. The majority of mecha came out of it in a rotten mood. ~I'll make sure to have some toys handy.~ He'd raided about half of the sparkling supply shops in the city, so they had a good stash.

~And be ready to play _with_ her,~ Drift emphasized. ~That's the payback. She'll want _your_ attention.~

Wing purr-chuckled. ~Message received.~ He was actually looking forward to getting in some playtime with Starcrossed. The majority of his time had been spent pulling a double chore load in the Citadel and working odd jobs for extra credits.

~Then how about _you_ play with her for a couple joors,~ Drift rumbled. ~I haven't been out of this place in _far_ too long. I need to see the sky.~

~Once you're not about to fall over into recharge,~ Wing replied. ~And if you're going to the surface, make sure you aren't tailed.~

Drift laughed silently at that. ~Right. Recharge. And if I can't ditch a tail, I deserve to be caught.~

~Don't underestimate how sneaky some of the others can be,~ Wing cautioned, looking toward the crib to check on Starcrossed before settling back down as his mate drifted into recharge. He had up to two joors to rest, or he could bring her out early.

~I won't,~ Drift promised before succumbing to the lure of recharge.

Wing nuzzled his mate, then settled down to doze until Starcrossed came out of forced stasis. He had a feeling he'd need the extra rest.

A joor and a half later he was roused by the jerk of his mate, nearly tumbling him out of the berth, and the screech of outrage erupting from the far side of the room. Wing jumped, his engines revving and almost sending him into the wall. Making a face at Drift as the other mech chuckled at his reaction, the dark jet walked over to the crib, opening it and peering inside. "Hello, little one."

"Nap time _over_!" she squawked at him in outrage, her protoform wing struts flapping in displeasure as she glared up with baleful red optics.

From the berth, Drift was still chuckling as he settled in for more recharge. "Have fun with him."

Wing shook his helm at his mate, reaching in to pick Starcrossed up. His fingers ran lightly down her back and over her wings. "That sounds ominous..."

She peered at him, focusing on where his wings had been visible had been not long ago. "Fly."

Wing fluttered his wings, flaring them out and pulling them back in. The tip of one wing poked out before flicking out of sight again. The dark jet repeated the process with the other wing, watching small red optics dart after the wiggling appendages.

"Take me flying." She enunciated clearly with a click, entertained but annoyed at not having her request humored.

The jet chuckled, flaring his wings out and hovering. "It's not safe to go outside the den. But I can do some flying in here."

Starcrossed pouted for a few nanokliks before she giggled in delight at being in the _air_. Happy kliks and trills escaped her as she looked all around, her wing struts flapping gleefully.

~Toss her and she's be even happier,~ Drift supplied sleepily. ~Different room,~ he requested, pressed a desire for recharge through the bond.

Wing smiled at his creation, flying out into the main room of the den, where the ceiling was higher. Holding Starcrossed securely, he began flying in slow circles near the ceiling while she squealed in delight at something her carrier couldn't do with her. Joy and love tickled Wing from their bond.

The adult jet's smile widened. Drift hated flying, so it was nice to have someone who loved it to fly with. Even this low above the ground.

Perhaps one day he'd get to fly her around the city cavern. And then one day take her above the sands and show her what it was like to fly with no limits except the contents of her own fuel tanks and the heights of the atmosphere.

She cooed, clicked and squealed in delight, the bond brimming with her happiness. Even the bond with Drift, who deep in recharge, hummed softly with _pleasure-happiness_ at her reaction.

Humming softly and smiling at the little jetling's reaction, Wing began flying figure eights and other patterns, banking gently on the curves. He stayed away from the berthroom so the sound of his engines, and their creation's squeals of delight, wouldn't wake Drift.

"Faster!" Starcrossed cried gleefully.

Slowly and carefully, Wing increased his speed, keeping an optic out for any obstacles. Fortunately, he'd smoothed out the ceiling and removed all the stalactites when he had been prepping the cavern to become their new lair. "I can't go too fast or we'll hit something."

"Then outside!" she giggled, simply beaming with delight at flying. Her tiny wing struts were flapping wildly in her joy, completely uncoordinated for flight yet.

"It's dangerous outside," Wing pointed out. Though he was fast enough to outrun the vast majority of those who might try to chase him.

"Life is dangerous," she chirred unrepentantly.

Wing debated internally for a long moment. The city cavern was large enough for him to stay well away from the Citadel, giving him plenty of head start if any other Knights started coming in his direction. And none of the other flying Knights could match his speed.

Venting heavily, Wing landed in front of the door, checking all the monitors to make very sure there was no one in the tunnels anywhere nearby. Keeping a firm hold on Starcrossed, Wing slipped out into the tunnels. She squealed and clicked in delight, the bond flooded with excitement as she squirmed in his grip, though she made no actual effort to escape.

The dark jet made his way quickly through the tunnels, stopping just inside the mouth of the tunnel and letting Starcrossed take in the city that filled the vast cavern before them. Artificial light made the stone walls and ceilings glitter as it caught the minerals studding the stone. Other fliers could be seen moving between the gleaming towers.

She actually stilled, awed and amazed, her bright red optics trying to pop out of her helm as she snapped her helm back and forth, trying to take everything in. Like a true flier, the wide open space held only attraction for her.

Wing let her take in the sight for a few kliks before easing out into the open and rising slowly into the air. Shifting his grip on her to make very sure she couldn't get loose, Wing angled away from the direction of the Citadel, heading for the ceiling of the city cavern.

"The city is called New Crystal City," he murmured to the tiny jetling he carried.

"What happened to old Crystal City?" she asked, most of her energy directed at taking in everything, especially the height. "Carrier would hate this."

Wing chuckled. "Drift is a grounder to the spark. Absolutely hates heights. Very rarely does he let me fly him anywhere. The last time he flew with me was the orn you crawled out of him. And the original Crystal City was on another planet."

"The one carrier came from?" she chirped.

"Yes, the planet your carrier came from," Wing agreed, banking around a stalactite and over the city. He was keeping a sharp optic on their surroundings, looking especially hard for any flickers of black. Despite all his worry, two joors passed and the cavern was clear of danger and his sparkling was cooing in contentment when his fuel tank pinged him a low level warning.

"Time to go home," Wing told Starcrossed, banking and heading back for the tunnels. "I need to refuel, or we'll fall out of the air." He spiraled down to the mouth of the tunnel, flying into the passage before touching down. The sparkling in his arms was nearly in recharge, cooing and clicking in contentment at the long flight.

Wing smiled as he carried her through the caves and passages back to their lair. Slipping inside, he locked the door behind them and walked into the berthroom, testing the bond to see if Drift was still in recharge. Not that much to his surprise, his mate was still very happily oblivious to the universe.

The dark jet chuckled at his mate, walking over to the crib. There was barely a murmur of protest from Starcrossed as he placed her in her crib, making sure a couple of her favorite soft toys were in easy reach and the small thermal blanket was there if she needed it. Golden optics watched the tiny femme for a few kliks, until his fuel tanks pinged him again. Wing vented and went to get himself some energon.

Tanks full, Wing checked on Starcrossed again, finding her out cold in her crib. The jet padded across the room, sliding onto the berth next to his mate. Pressing himself against Drift's dark armor, Wing let himself drift into recharge as well.

* * *

Drift smiled as he finished booting up, content with the warmth of his mate against him and the safety of this home they'd carved out for themselves. It felt good to feel reasonably safe, even more so now that they weren't going to be leaving.

A jolt of excitement across the creator-creation bond had Drift out of the berth and on his pedes in a flash. His optics snapped to the empty crib and he cursed sharply, trying to focus on the bond to track her.

Wing shifted, lifting his helm and blinking blearily at the sudden loss of the warm frame against his. His helm had been resting on Drift's shoulder, so the sudden movement had jarred the dark jet out of recharge. One wing flopped open as recharge-hazed gold optics turned toward Drift.

"She's loose," Drift rumbled with a clear edge of fear as he began a systematic search for their creation, guided on the bond and many days of chasing and finding her.

 _That_ woke Wing up all the way. He almost landed on his faceplate scrambling off the berth, moving to help his mate search for their stray creation. "There's no way she could have gotten out of the den... not with the locks we've got on that door."

"Not this time, but you'd be amazed what she can unlock already," Drift grumbled as he worked his way into the main room, checking her favored spots first. "I've upgraded that crib twice in less than a metacycle."

"I wonder which of us she got _that_ little talent from." Wing began looking in the less likely spots, though with Starcrossed they never knew where she might get into.

"Definitely you," Drift retorted, turned half upside down looking under the couch. "I break doors. And don't think _any_ spot is too small."

"Probably, considering all the trouble I got into when I was that size." Wing looked behind another piece of furniture, then peeked into the storeroom. A squeal of delight and the sudden sound of the washrack turning on got both their attention. " _That_ she got from you."

"As if you don't love a good shower," Drift retorted as they ran for the washrack and their squealing creation under a solvent shower.

Wing managed to slip in first, chuckling as he spotted Starcrossed. "Oh, I do enjoy a shower... You enjoy pouncing on me in it." He flicked a wing at his mate, walking over to their creation who grinned up at them with unrepentant happiness at her current state.

"At least we won't have a problem keeping her clean," Drift shook his helm and allowed Wing to deal with their sparkling.

"Proud of yourself?" Wing asked as he reached down to pick Starcrossed up, stroking her back and small wings.

"Yes. Shower's fun!" she giggled. "Creator all wet!" she pointed at Wing.

"Well, would you look at that. I am wet." The dark jet chuckled, flicking his wings to send droplets flying. "And you missed a spot." He slid his fingertips over a ticklish spot on her back.

The lanky protoform giggled and squirmed, happy and playful in her creator's arms as her carrier watched with amusement and no small amount of desire building for his solvent-slicked mate.

Wing chuckled, shifting Starcrossed to one arm as he reached to turn off the shower, flaring his armor to flick off some of the solvent. Wings and pinions wiggled, sending bright drops flying. Golden optics flicked to Drift's deep red as the dark jet walked over to his mate, teasing a small wing.

With a soft chuckle to cover the deeper rumble of desire, Drift tickled Starcrossed's abdominal plates while he stole a kiss from Wing. ~Want to jump you right now.~

~In front of these innocent little optics?~ Wing tilted his helm toward the giggling armful of protoform he was holding, humming as he returned the quick kiss.

~You never objected to it when she was _part_ of the fun,~ Drift rumbled. ~Even if the merge was all she knew. She can go down for a nap.~

~She wasn't able to watch then, so there was no chance of corrupting her,~ Wing crooned. ~And if she goes down for a nap it'll take flying her around the city cavern again to calm her down when she wakes up. You'll also be late getting to the Citadel.~ The dark helm tilted to one side, golden optics sparkling playfully. ~But who cares about that?~

~Given the trouble I'm already in, I don't,~ Drift snickered, sneaking a hand around to stroke his mate's aft. ~I want more of this while I can get it.~

Wing purred, his field pulsing with agreement, his own rising desire flowing through the bond. "Time for a nap, Star," he told the squirming bundle in his arms. "I'll take you flying again later."

"More creator berth time?" She grumbled.

"Creator shower time," Drift rumbled. "Same idea."

"Nothing for little optics to see," Wing added, tapping her lightly on the very tip of her nose as he carried her toward her crib. Setting her in forced stasis, he placed her in the crib, making sure to lock it this time.

* * *

Several Knights were milling around the main courtyard of the Citadel when Drift arrived. The gates opening caught their attention, all optics snapping in that direction. The Knights paused when they saw just _who_ was entering.

"Drift?" One of them finally ventured a step closer while another darted into the Citadel itself. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost in the tunnels or something of that nature."

"I'm harder to make go away than that," Drift snorted, making it clear he had every intention of having his reappearance be as much of a non-event as he could manage.

More Knights began flowing out of the main structure, muttering to themselves. A red airframe, clearly returning from the city, landed on the wall, watching from above. Within a breem or so, at least half the Knights in residence had made an appearance.

"You're going to need that ability," one of them advised, glancing warily toward the main doors.

"I've survived crazier than either of them," Drift shrugged and stalked towards the doors, intent on either disappearing into his chores or getting the beating over with. Despite the brave words, he knew just how dangerous his position was right now and only his loyalty to his word to Wing was keeping him from setting up an ambush to kill both the fraggers right then.

"We'll take your word for that." The other Knights parted, watching Drift enter the Citadel with the air of a crowd watching someone walking to their execution.

Drift muttered under his breath about what he did for love, his sensors wide open to give him at least a fraction of a moment to be ready for what was coming.

Other sets of optics peered out of every available nook and cranny big enough for a mech to hide in that the giants couldn't. The other Knights had gone to cover, which was not a good sign. Neither was the deep growl echoing down the corridor.

Still, between Megatron, Starscream and Turmoil, Drift knew enough about insanity to deal with it ... his processors paused on that thought and pointed out how he'd become this Drift in the first place. His deep red optics glittered with a madness all his own as he turned to the sound.

~If I get killed doing this, you'd better keep her _safe_ ,~ he growled at his mate before locking his end of both bonds down as far as he could. Wing was used to it. Their creation would need Wing's full focus right now as her carrier abruptly ceased to exist to her for the first time.

The watching optics retreated even farther into hiding at the sound of that growl. Dai Atlas was waiting in the training arena, somehow managing to stay there rather than hunting Drift down. Spattered energon on the floor around the doors hinted that one of the other Knights had already gotten on the Knight leader's bad side, and was probably in Redline's medical bay for an extended stay.

A destination Drift was likely to be in soon. With another sub-vocal mutter he stalked towards the training room, mentally reviewing what was acceptable grounds for killing the psycho.

Dai Atlas was waiting in the center of the room, optics blazing a feral red. One hand was so tightly fisted the metal was audibly creaking. Long wings were visibly vibrating with tightly-leashed fury.

"So," the dark blue mech rumbled. "You finally decide to reappear."

"Miss me?" Drift asked cheekily, easing to lean against the doorframe. "You aren't looking so good."

There was a long moment of absolute silence. Even Dai Atlas looked briefly stunned by the response. Then the Knight leader's optics flared, the big mech baring his dentas in a snarl as he took a step forward. "Insolence!"

Drift cocked his helm, feigning unconcern well. "You have low standards. I haven't tried to shoot or replace you. Yet. Ask Turmoil what Insolence is. You have no idea what it means."

The response to that was a roar that rattled the Citadel, scattering most of the Knights in all directions. For such a big mech, Dai Atlas was _fast_. He charged directly at Drift, not even bothering to draw his swords yet.

Deep red optics narrowed as Drift's frame flowed with a smooth grace he rarely displayed, seeming to brace for impact as if he could take the much, _much_ larger mech. A the very last nanoklik two short swords flashed as he drove forward, one slashing at an extended wrist, the other slashing across the giant's unguarded throat.

At the last moment Dai Atlas lurched sideways, his own swords finally making an appearance. Drift's sword glanced off the armor of the larger mech's shoulder, the tip grazing a cable of his neck just enough to sting and make the big mech even more enraged. Snarling something incoherent, optics narrow, Dai Atlas charged again.

Drift ducked and rolled between the giant's legs, making his pedes and slashing out at a knee joint from behind. The resulting bellow threatened to short out Drift's audials. 

Murder in his optics, Dai Atlas spun, both blades aiming straight for Drift's chest and throat. 

The smaller mech darted to the side, accepting the long gash along his right arm as payment for survival. The pain was nothing after so many beatings that required a massive rebuild. Automatic systems closed off the cut energon capillaries before he had even fully registered the damage.

He slashed out as he moved forward, leaving a good-sized gash sparkling and oozing along Dai Atlas' hip.

If a mech could froth at the mouth, that was exactly what Dai Atlas did. The giant lashed out, backhanding Drift hard enough to send him skidding across the arena. Dai Atlas was immediately after him, bellowing in incoherent fury as the smaller mech scrambled to his pedes and lunged out of the way.

He wasn't quite fast enough, catching a slice from a short sword across his back diagonally. Any closer and it would have cleaved him clean in half. As it stood, he was limp for a moment as he was forced to reroute all his commands to his lower frame around the severe break in his spinal strut and the primary lines under it.

Like an organic predator scenting blood, Dai Atlas rounded on him, glaring down at the limp grounder as the blue giant moved in. His blades were aimed directly at Drift's vital circuitry and spark core.

A sharp whistle snapped the giant's gaze to his mate, and he instantly crumpled to a limp heap.

"You are insane," Axe shook his helm as he looked at the immobile pair, focusing on Drift. "Not even Shogun," he nodded toward the red flier watching from the doorway, "would challenge him like that."

Drift just snorted. "Nut job needs a processor wipe."

"You will find that most of the Citadel would agree with you there." Shogun walked into the training arena, picking his way around the limp pile of deep blue to look over Drift's injuries. The red Knight grimaced. "Have to admire your spunk, though... No one else would dare speak to Dai Atlas like that."

"No one else here has my background," Drift shrugged one spaulder and attempted to move a leg. When that worked, if only somewhat, he shifted to push himself up. "He's not the first insane giant leader I've served under. Just with less interest in spiking me than the last two."

Shogun made a face. "I'd rather not contemplate that thought, personally." He waited for Drift to get to his pedes, observing how much control the grounder had with a badly damaged spinal strut. "The sooner you get to Redline, the better."

"Agreed," Drift gave a serious, hard look at the blue pile of metal on the floor, his thoughts painfully transparent.

More than slightly to Shogun's surprise, Axe allowed it, watching as the youngest Knight debated the value of killing their insane leader right then and there. Perhaps even more to his surprise, Drift muttered something inaudible and limped towards the door, sheathing his short swords on the way.

A slight smile appeared on Shogun's face as he stepped over Dai Atlas' limp form and followed Drift, intending to make sure he got to the medical bay without keeling over. "I admire your restraint."

"I'm a fool in love," Drift shook his helm.

Shogun snorted at that. "Wing got you to promise to let them live, did he? Can't say I'm surprised." He shifted a red wing panel absently.

"As long as they weren't trying to kill me at the moment," Drift nodded, then looked up at the giant. "What's with the control over red collars?"

"Solid red collars mark the seven mechs and femmes who are members of my harem, so everyone else knows to keep their distance," Shogun replied easily. "It's been long enough now that most of the city recognizes a solid red collar with my designation-glyph on it as my mark. Keeps the fights to a minimum. Wing can tell you that I will protect what's mine by any means necessary, and Thorn can corroborate."

"That makes more sense," Drift chuckled weakly. "Wing forgot to mention the glyph as part of your mark."

"Wing's never gotten close enough to see," was the reply. "Thorn has, and the scars that resulted from that misstep are still quite visible. He's lucky I left his wings attached to his frame."

"Wing has rather fine survival instincts when it comes to avoiding violence," Drift cracked a grin, amused and sad for his mate. "Had a couple fine teachers for that early on."

Shogun rumbled his agreement. "Wing has needed those survival instincts." He glanced behind them, back toward the training arena. "One day those two will fall, and then Wing will no longer have to be so afraid."

"It won't be soon enough for me," Drift grumbled, suppressing a wince as his leg twisted when he made a step. "I had enough of this as a Con."

Shogun looked at him curiously. "I am assuming that 'Cons where you come from are different from the ones I am more familiar with."

"If your Megatron isn't as messed in the processor as Dai Atlas, then probably not," Drift said. "Mech was more than a few lines short of a full OS."

The red Knight considered that. "Definitely very different. Megatron was quite sane. The Prime... not so much. It's a toss-up as to who is worse... Dai Atlas or the current Prime."

"Then the Cons I know are like the Bots here," Drift careened and landed heavily against his shoulder against the wall where he remained as he made a few more reroutes to regain control of his frame. "Crazy to the last and violent for fun."

"It definitely sounds that way." Shogun waited for Drift, waiting to see if he needed any assistance. Though he was sure that the grounder would never _ask_ for help, if he couldn't stand within another klik, he'd get himself carried to medical.

With a grunt Drift pushed off the wall and made it four more paces before his spinal strut shifted dangerously out of alignment and took many of his internals in the area with it. The dark gray and black mech dropped like a stone and other than growling in frustration and struggling to get up with his still-functional arms, didn't really manage to move again.

The red flier vented heavily, walking over and dropping into a crouch. Orange optics took in the damage with the experienced optic of one who'd seen just about everything that could be done to a mech's body. Shogun frowned for a moment, then shrugged to himself and picked the smaller mech up as carefully as he could manage. "Stubborn mech."

Drift growled, though his field spoke of anger with himself and the situation, not directed at Shogun. Otherwise, he relaxed into a compliant mass in the much larger mech's arms.

~I survived,~ Drift cracked the bond open with Wing, though he kept it closed to Starcrossed.

What came back through the bond was a mix of relief and worry. Wing was almost beside himself, and probably not that far away from the Citadel. A tiny seed of amusement threaded its way through as Wing took in the fact that Drift was being carried.

~Where is Starcrossed?~ Drift demanded the moment he realized that Wing wasn't safe in their stony quarters.

~I'm carrying her,~ was the reply. ~I did promise to take her flying, and as soon as she woke up she was screaming to fly. After this she'll be calm and contented for the rest of the orn.~

~Right,~ Drift relaxed fractionally. ~Long as you weren't coming here. Good distraction for my absence in the bond too.~

~We're not coming to the Citadel,~ Wing replied. ~We're nearby, but not approaching any closer.~

Shogun made a neutral hum, heading for the medical bay, settling into a ground-eating pace. He shifted his grip slightly, keeping away from the worst of the damage, and comming ahead to let Redline know he was bringing in a broken-backed Drift.

::He's alive?:: the medic sounded genuinely surprised. ::And is he bleeding out?::

::Deep gash across the back severed his back strut,:: Shogun reported. ::The severed end has shifted severely out of alignment and has done more internal damage. Won't be a quick fix. We're almost there.::

::Right. I'll have Rachidian ready for you,:: Redline said before closing the line.

Shogun made a hum of acknowledgement. "Redline's ready for us. You're going to be in there for a while." He turned into the corridor leading straight to the main doors of Redline's domain.

"Figured as much," Drift admitted. "Not the first time I've been seriously damaged."

"I've seen some of what Dai Atlas has done to you before, and I can infer that you've been blown halfway to the Pit and back before you arrived here." Shogun's wings twitched as the medbay doors came into sight. He could feel energon running down his arm from the gash across Drift's back as another internal shift broke a line too badly to be immediately sealed even by battle-centric systems.

"Hasn't even given the worst beatings," Drift murmured, stasis threatening to claim him as systems struggled to stay on line. "Too much rage. Turmoil ... cold bastard made it an art he called discipline. So did Jazz, was more honest. Said it was torture, designed to break a mecha."

"Put him on the berth," the spindly medic, a true specialist among the staff, pointed to his special workstation.

Shogun winced. He'd seen Dai Atlas' more brutal punishments, and he had seen what had happened on Cybertron before the Circle had left. "Mecha I am glad I will never meet. Dai Atlas is bad enough." He followed the medic's instructions, very carefully placing Drift on the berth face down, then moved out of the way to clean the energon off his armor.

"Jazz is ah good mech," Drift's voice began to slur. "Wouldn't want to meet him now though."

"Drift, I need you to stay with us," Rachidian said firmly as long, thin fingers took in the damage as much as optics and scanners. "Keep talking." He glanced at Shogun. "About anything."

The large red mech eased closer, finding a place to settle near the berth. "If the Jazz you knew was a good mech, then I would imagine he'd be very different here, if he was an Autobot. I saw more than enough of their cruelty before we left Cybertron." Orange optics narrowed. "Don't fade out on us, Drift. Wing will _not_ be happy if you do."

"No, he wouldn't," Drift's optics brightened at the reminder of his reason to keep going. "Just how sane _are_ the local Cons?"

"From what I can infer from what you said of yours... Pretty much the complete opposite of the ones you're used to," Shogun replied after a moment of thought. "You're less from another dimension than... a reverse dimension. I would bet good credits that if there are Knights where you came from, they're nothing like us."

"Depends on what about," Drift murmured, briefly drifting off before focusing again as pain roared at him from his back from Rachidian's work. "Most Knights are less reversed and more ... just darker, less sane. Wing's still very much Wing. Dai Atlas never did like me much, would have rather flattened me than trained me. Redline ... slightly less into throwing things, but really the same. Thorn ... he's _different_...."

"But I would bet that Dai Atlas was a lot saner than the one we have to put up with," Shogun commented. He shifted position, interested. "How different is our Thorn from the one where you came from?"

"A scholar, shy, not willing to risk his wings to get laid," Drift muttered, the decidedly personal nature of the last item difficult to miss.

Shogun's optics flickered in a blink. "Ours thrives on ferreting out others' secrets and trading them for things he wants, or as straight blackmail. He's always watching. I've heard him referred to as the biggest snoop in the Circle. He's gone after my harem, though only the once, and I think he's got his optic on you."

"He does," Drift actually snarled, far less offended by the interest, or even the persistence, as the method. "He might have actually gotten somewhere if he didn't go after Wing to get to me."

"Be _still_ ," Rachidian snapped at his patient. "Unless you _like_ being paralyzed."

"That would explain the mangled state he and Wing came back in that one time," the red Knight noted. "I don't doubt that he had something to do with outing the fact that you're bonded to Wing. That was the kind of information that mech thrives on."

"Yes," Drift muttered and settled into being _still_ once more. "That was over me. I'm sure he was, given he got his pet shortly after."

"Traded the information to Axe for permission to have a pet." Shogun shook his helm. "I don't need to caution you about his sneakiness, then. And somehow I'm not surprised Wing took on Thorn for you."

Drift made a curious sound, wondering what the senior Knight thought was going on.

Shogun only shrugged, unwilling to put voice to his reasons. He watched the medic working for a moment, taking in the damage and Drift's reactions. As wild as the story of Drift's previous existence were, the past joor made them much more believable to the senior Knight. Reactions like Drift's did not come from anything less than a long, brutal existence.

A red wing panel shifted to a more comfortable position behind the older mech's back. "You're more coherent than you were when I carried you in here... That's a good thing." Orange optics swept the medbay briefly. "Odd that Wing isn't here..."

"Told him to stay away," Drift said. "Not safe yet."

Shogun nodded. "That makes sense... If he'd come with you he'd likely be in here for repairs, too." He glanced in the direction of one of the surgery areas. "When Dai Atlas snaps he doesn't much care who gets in his way."

"Glitch," Drift rumbled. "Why _is_ he tolerated?"

"Because he's still the best in the Circle, and no one else yet has the skill to bring him down," was the reply. "Not even myself. Yet. But as he descends further into madness, hopefully someone will be able to get past his blades and end him."

"Eventually, someone will," Drift spoke in as much a promise as in hope. "There are actual leaders to take his place here."

Shogun tilted his helm at the grounder, but didn't comment on that. "I'm one of the major candidates. Of the others... Lightstrike is almost as bad as Dai Atlas is, and the others are already firmly under Axe's control. Dai Atlas may technically be the Circle leader, but it's Axe who has the real power."

"Not after Dai Atlas falls," Drift said simply, more than familiar with the dynamic between his mate's creators.

"We hope." Shogun shrugged slightly. "Axe can't control me... That's why he hates me. We've existed in a state of mutual intolerance for a long time."

"He can out-fight you too?" Drift asked, rolling plans and information around his processor even as he shared it with Wing, who still knew the ins and outs of Citadel politics far better.

"Axe and I are close in skill... He's slightly better than I am because he's been training longer, but only just. On a good orn we can fight each other to a standstill. On a bad orn Redline sees more of me than he'd prefer." Shogun flicked a wing. "Even if I could bring Axe down, it would only make Dai Atlas fly completely off the handle. So I don't dare."

"After Dai Atlas is gone, Axe won't be in any condition to fight his best," Drift pointed out.

"That would depend on someone being able to take Dai Atlas out, but yes... The shock of it would leave Axe vulnerable, and therefore easier to fell," Shogun agreed.

Drift hummed, confused by Wing's shock on the other side of the bond. He really didn't think any of this was _new_ , much less news, to anybody. Why else would Wing make him promise to only kill if he was in danger? Pits, today he _had_ been.

Today he'd been damn suicidal is what he'd been. He had the time to shoot, he simply hadn't. He'd had the time to charge Stormsurge of War and the blade was quite agreeable, but he hadn't drawn it.

 _Don't do anything that stupid again!_ was very much the flavor to what was coming through the bond as Drift reflected on that. Along with that came an image of the tiny jetling in Wing's arms as he flew over the underground city.

Shogun tilted his helm, leaning back. His Great Sword tilted to one side behind him, the dark stone in the hilt flaring, proving its color to be a blue so deep it looked black as jet.

~Which, not killing or talking?~ Drift asked back, his processors slightly fuzzy from pain and he was beginning to suspect some blocking programs his medic had uploaded.

~Don't provoke Dai Atlas like that!~ Wing shot back. ~I need you, and Starcrossed needs you. Don't get yourself killed doing something stupid!~

Shogun pondered for a moment, waving off a glare from the medic at the silence. "What were the Autobots like where you came from?" he finally asked, leaning forward curiously. 


	13. Shogun's Offer

Several orns had passed since Drift's reappearance in the Citadel of Shadows and the beating he had received at Dai Atlas' hands. Shogun had been watching the smaller mech, watching and thinking hard. It had taken him a while to decide on a course of action, but finally an idea had occurred to him.

The red Knight walked through the corridors of the Citadel, other Knights moving out of his way, heading to where he knew the gray and black grounder would be. His chores had him cleaning out one of the smaller training rooms, where a feud between two Knights had devolved into a fight, leaving bits of armor and energon all over the floor. Both would survive and had the dressing-down of a lifetime waiting for them, and Drift had been volunteered to clean up the mess.

Shogun casually glanced back down the corridor, making sure no one was paying much attention, before slipping into the training room. For a moment he watched Drift at work, smiling faintly at the grumbling that reached his audials, before making his presence known. "Drift."

He noted that he didn't startle the younger warrior, meaning Drift had known he was there. It was only when he spoke that the grounder turned his helm to look at the red giant.

"Shogun," he greeted in turn, his tone neutral but his frame speaking volumes of his lack of aggression towards the large jet.

The older mech inclined his helm, orange optics neutral. Keeping his body language and field non-aggressive, he walked over to stand next to the gray and black grounder. "I have... a proposition for you. And for Wing."

He very abruptly had Drift's full attention, and he suspected Wing's as well.

"We are listening," Drift confirmed, cautious but willing to hear him out.

The red mech settled into a crouch next to Drift, his Great Sword tilting to one side. "I can give you, and Wing, extra training, teach you things Dai Atlas and Axe haven't even hinted at yet. As well as better, and saner, mentoring on the laws and codes of the Knights and the city. Basically a fast track from new Knight to master-level."

"In exchange for what?" Drift asked evenly, only a mild hint in his field at just how interested he really was.

A red wing shifted. "The three of us have a common enemy... Eventually someone will bring him down, and then I'll probably be the Circle's leader. But I myself am an old mech. Who leads after me?" He lifted an optic rim, waiting to see if Drift could read between the lines.

The sharp flare in the grounder's field was too quick to be suppressed.

~Wing?~ Drift passed the offer on. He was definitely tempted. He was beyond tempted. Only his loyalty to Wing kept him from agreement immediately.

~That is something Knights very rarely are offered,~ Wing responded, excited and stunned by the offer coming from his creator's rival. ~It take centuries, millennia, for a mech to reach the master level. With his help, it would cut that time down considerably. Shogun is known for using more than just swords and his naginata. We should take him up on the offer.~

"You don't need to decide now," Shogun murmured. "You and Wing can take as much time as you need to consider." He passed Drift a datachip. "This is my personal comm frequency. You can let me know when you come to a decision."

"We accept," Drift answered for them both.

Shogun tilted his helm slightly, then nodded. "Both of us have duties to attend to now... Perhaps we can meet later to work out where to begin and see how our schedules shake out?"

"Of course," Drift agreed. "I have a meal break in two joors and I should be clear for the night in four."

Shogun thought for a moment. "I have another three joors left in my shift, and I'm due in the control room. I can meet you and Wing at The Larret after shift end, if that is all right with you two."

"We'll be there," Drift agreed after Wing gave a confirmation chirp. He watched the large mech leave and went back to work, but most of his attention was on his bonded and what was going on with Wing. ~This will seriously piss off Axe.~

~Oh, Axe will probably blow half his fuses,~ Wing agreed. A thread of unease tinted with fear threaded through the bond, but it was weaker than the excitement. ~Though it will be more about his creation being mentored by his rival. He won't be able to complain much about the quality of what we'll be learning.~

~Other than it's not on his timetable,~ Drift smirked, though he kept the expression off his features. ~What will you do with Starcrossed while we're both away?~

The dark jet hesitated. ~I'll have to put her in stasis for the meeting with Shogun, but the training will require both of us, and for longer than five joors.~ Wing paused, thinking, before speaking again. ~There are mecha in the city who care for sparklings and younglings while the creators are away or busy....~

~We just need one we can trust enough not to speak about who they're working for,~ Drift said grimly. ~Whether by bribe, blackmail or honor.~

Wing pondered. ~I'll access the city's database and see who is available. I think I've heard of a few who would work well.~

~I've leave that you to, then,~ Drift told his mate. ~Just how sane _is_ Shogun, anyway?~

~I have known him all my life, and he is one of the sanest Knights we have,~ the dark jet replied. ~I've never seen him anything but very in control of himself.~

~A good one to ally with then,~ Drift didn't hide his relief. 

* * *

"Shogun!" Axe roared his demand for the other master as he stalked through the halls, aiming for the library where he knew the senior Knight had his students.

Wing and Drift both tensed sharply, Wing trying to nudge his mate so the subject of Axe's ire was between them and the door his creator would come through.

The red mech looked up from the datapads he was working on, his expression neutral as he heard the bellowing. Heaving a purely internal sigh, he straightened as the black triple changer that looked him in the optics stormed in. "Yes, Axe?"

"What is the meaning of _this_?" he snarled, jabbing a finger at the two junior Knights studying.

"Studying," Shogun answered calmly. "And brushing up on the laws and codes of the Knights." He tilted his helm slightly. "What's the problem with that? It is information they will have to know, and you are clearly too busy for teaching."

Black armor nearly vibrated in rage as blue optics flashed near-white, causing Wing to push Drift back just a bit further as his creator sputtered. " _My_ creation. _My_ former Initiate. Their continued training is _mine_."

Red wings shifted, flaring ever so slightly. "You were busy, and more of your time was taken up with keeping Dai Atlas from killing anyone. I know our laws just as well as you, and I am much less inclined to lose my temper walking them through a complicated text."

"That does not give you the right to take over their education," Axe snapped, pushing his greater mass into Shogun's personal space with a lash across their fields.

The red Knight straightened his back, his wings flaring all the way out, his orange optics meeting blue. "I am well within my rights if I think their education has been neglected. And it has been." He waved the datapad he'd been reading toward the black triple changer. "Drift's in particular. He should be able to recite the Lineage of the Master of Shadows, the Laws of Shadow, the designations of every Great Sword and the designation of every mecha to bear his Great Sword by now. His katas are woefully behind given his natural talent and drive to perfect them."

" _My_ student," Axe snarled, insistent on his right, even if it wasn't his right.

" _My_ students now," Shogun rumbled in response. His field snapped at Axe's. The red mech was not going to back down.

An ugly snarl twisted Axe's features, sending the junior Knights scurrying for cover, or rather, sent Wing dragging his mate for cover. "Only if you can take them." Axe rumbled and stepped back to draw his great ax.

Shogun put the pad down, pulling out his naginata and activating the energy blade. Narrowed orange optics reflected the white glow of the blade as the red mech regarded his opponent. 

"Not here," Shogun growled. "This is a library." He made a sharp gesture toward the door.

Axe snorted and pointed to the large door-windows that opened to the central courtyard of the Citadel.

Keeping his optics on Axe, Shogun sidled over to the doors, opening them. One wing flicked to Drift and Wing, a gesture to follow once Shogun and Axe were outside.

Other Knights looked up, taking in the sight of bared and activated weapons, and immediately moved out of the way, having an idea what was about to go down. Others gathered in a clump to watch from a safe distance that Wing and Drift joined the edge of.

Without so much as a growl Axe made the first move, a powerful swing intended to slice his opponent clean in half.

Shogun sidestepped, bringing his weapon around to parry the blow. Edged steel hissed against crackling energy as the naginata blade caught the black mech's ax. Proving just as fast as Axe, Shogun turned parry into strike, aiming for Axe's torso.

The black Knight snapped the long haft of his great battle-ax to block, twisting it around to knock the naginata out of alignment and put his larger, heavier blade into position to drive into Shogun.

The red mech twisted, using the shaft of his weapon to deflect the blow, using the force to pivot and bring the heavy metal end cap hard against Axe's knee joint. He took a glancing blow from the ax, but managed to avoid a much worse injury.

The black Knight growled, but the roar of powerful engines drowned it out as Dai Atlas came in for a landing across from the main gathering. The grin on his faceplates made more than a few of the Knights uneasy, but the leader's optics were fixed on his mate and the fight he was currently in.

Axe ignored his arrival, slashing out at Shogun in a twisting attack designed to take the other's arm off if he missed, and his torso out if it hit.

Shogun's optics narrowed as he twisted at an impossible angle, whipping his naginata around to catch the shaft between the blades of the ax, shoving it to one side. Energon seeped from a fresh gash across the red mech's side and abdomen as he twisted his weapon free, the blade coming around in a stabbing slash that sliced into Axe's canopy and the sensitive plating to either side of it.

A howl of pain greeted his first real hit of the match, and one of the better ones he'd ever landed on the older Knight. Taking full advantage, Shogun twisted the weapon to hook the curved tip of the blade into whatever circuitry was closest, then pulled his weapon free, tearing out clumps of wiring with it. Retreating a few steps, the red Knight fell into a guard stance, orange optics narrow and all his attention on his opponent.

With a roar of fury Axe rounded on his opponent to the gleeful laughter of his mate. The great axe glowed with energy as Axe focused on activating its more arcane abilities. While nothing compared to the power a Great Sword could bring to bear by drawing on spark energy, it still made the great axe significantly more dangerous as it swung at Shogun in an attempt to cleave him in two helm to pede.

Shogun pulled his wings in close, launching himself sideways and around. His naginata was a blur as he struck out at the black triple changer's knee joint with the heavy end cap a second time, metal giving way with a crunch, before striking at Axe's arm, aiming for the elbow joint or forearm as the black mech went down sideways.

"You're a dead mech," Axe hissed, using his turbines to help offset the leg that was no longer working and switching his grip to one hand.

The red mech remained silent, ignoring the energon oozing from his own injuries. He regarded Axe through narrowed optics, having tuned out pretty much everything but his enemy. Shogun paced sideways, staying to Axe's crippled side, forcing the black mech to work that much harder to get at him.

Turbines powered up, taking Axe completely into the air for his next attack, a powerful slash that caught Shogun across the face despite the speed the red mech jerked back with.

Shogun hissed in pain, backpedaling and shaking his helm. One optic had been badly cracked and was almost useless, but the other optic still worked. Snarling at his opponent, Shogun darted in, his own turbines roaring. The blade of his naginata took aim at Axe's shoulder joint, slicing half way through it as the black mech struggled to get out of the longer weapon's reach. It wasn't the complete amputation Shogun had hoped for, but it still made the limb dangle uselessly.

Shogun hovered just out of ax range but within that of his naginata. His working optic flared, naginata ready to strike again. "Do you yield?" he demanded, baring his dental plates at the growling, spitting mad black triple changer.

For a moment it looked like Axe wouldn't yield despite his damage, but eventually he growled and set down with as much dignity as he could muster with a mangled knee and two useless arms. "I yield."

Shogun's stance relaxed, but not by much. "Wing and Drift are my students now, and you have no right to interfere." He deactivated the energy blade of his weapon, dropping slowly back to the ground and leaning on the shaft.

The crowd's attention shifted from the combatants to the loser's mate and their ever-unpredictable leader. Most weren't sure what to make of the laughter or wide grin, but when Dai Atlas strolled forward to collect his mate and the great axe that Axe could no longer carry they relaxed in general. There would be no energon bath this day.

Shogun's helm snapped around as Dai Atlas approached, sidling out of the way warily. Tense red armor relaxed as the larger mech ignored him, then Shogun made his way over to where Wing and Drift stood. "We'll pick up where we left off at a later date. I'm due in for repairs now. But after this we shouldn't have any more problems with Axe." He nodded to both of them, then took to the air again, heading for the medical wing.

~I hope not,~ Drift murmured, leaning against his mate as the extra tension drained from him. ~I'd still bet on every way Axe is still allowed to make all three of our existences difficult and training time hard to come by.~

~I wouldn't put it past him,~ Wing replied, sneaking an arm around Drift's waist.


	14. An Obsession Gone Wrong

Thorn moved through the tunnels near where Wing and Drift were now apparently living, pondering the mystery that the pair had become. First Drift hadn't been seen for the better part of a vorn. Then he and Wing hadn't been seen in the Citadel together for a good couple decaorns. Now both of them were back in the Citadel, but only for their duties and they were still living out in the caves.

They were hiding something, Thorn was sure of it. No one stayed in the middle of nowhere for seventeen vorns if they weren't. And he wanted to know what it was.

The scrabble of small, sharp claws against stone made him freeze, trying to pinpoint the source. It was up ahead, coming down the corridor _fast_. Further back was the heavier thud of a larger frame, also on the run.

The black jet's optics narrowed as he moved slowly in the direction from which the sounds were coming from, curiosity getting the better of him. Thorn peered into the darkness ahead, seeing nothing but an upcoming bend in the tunnel.

Two pinpricks of red rocketed around the corner, colliding with him with a squeak of surprise and distress, knocking it back and dazing the little thing.

Thorn stopped, frowning down at the little whatever it was that had run straight into his legs. It took him a moment to realize that he was looking at a sparkling, and his CPU tripped momentarily.

What was a sparkling doing here? There were none in the Citadel, and he hadn't even seen one in the city for some time. Certainly not one who looked like this. Frowning, Thorn bent to pick up the sparkling, holding it up for a better look.

Lanky with slender wing struts and only the lightest of armor over her chest; she couldn't be more than twenty vorns old. She wasn't even flight worthy yet, despite being an airframe. A very, very _fast_ airframe.

Tiny, deep red optics flared as she recalibrated her processors from the rattling impact had created and looked up at Thorn. An unholy shriek of panic came from her vocalizer as she began to struggle, a sound that triggered protective protocols even in Thorn, and could send her creator into a protective fury.

Thorn held the sparkling close to keep her from getting away, still looking her over. Who could this small creature belong to, and why was she running through the tunnels?

The heavy thud of an approaching adult made him look up just in time to see Drift charge around the corner, both short swords drawn, ready to fight for the sparkling crying for help. Only the heavy grounder froze when he saw Thorn holding her.

Thorn blinked at Drift for a moment, his deep red gaze moving from the grounder to the sparkling in his arms and back. Drift could almost see the gears turning in Thorn's helm.

"Is there some reason you're chasing a sparkling through the tunnels?" Thorn asked finally, optics narrowing at Drift, a germ of suspicion taking form.

"I'm taking care of her," Drift said, stalking forward and sheathing his blades, a look that promised a very painful deactivation on his features for refusing. "Hand her over."

Thorn raised an optic rim. "You, taking care of a sparkling? I can't see you as a caretaker, especially not out of the goodness of your spark. Who is she to you?" The black jet kept one optic on the sparkling, interested in how she would react to the grounder's approach. His suspicions rose sharply when she quieted at Drift's first word and began to relax. Drift wasn't just taking care of her for the day. He was _safety_ to her when Thorn was a threat.

"None of your business," Drift growled, low and dangerous as he stepped within range for their fields to touch.

That, the snapping sharpness converted from protective fear. Thorn knew that well.

Drift was her creator.

Thorn's optics widened, then narrowed, glittering. "I see," the tall black jet purred. "She's _yours_. And Wing's, as well, I would bet. Which one of you was the carrier?"

Wing's presence stirred through the bond he and Drift shared as the grounder's emotions leaked through. The jet prodded at Drift, wondering what was wrong.

~Thorn is holding Starcrossed, and he _knows_ ,~ Drift tried not to tremble in his effort to restrain instincts screaming at him to kill the black Knight.

A spike of alarm resounded through the bond. Wing was already looking for a way to drop what he was doing and bolt back to his mate.

Thorn was almost vibrating with glee. _Now_ he knew why Wing and Drift were living outside the Citadel. They had a sparkling, a jetling, and were raising her in secret, where no one else could see her. 

What to do with this particular piece of information...

"Give her to me," Drift's features twisted into a snarl that had sent many a Decepticon scrambling for cover when he'd been one of them.

Starcrossed reacted to the distress across both creator bonds by squirming, digging sharp, slender claws into the strong hands holding her and biting anything she could get close to. She had no fear of the fall, but anything her creators both feared was something to escape from.

Thorn was unfazed by the snarl, shifting his grip on Starcrossed to keep her from getting away. He ignored the biting and the clawing. "Why should I? There's nothing stopping me from taking her back to the Citadel and showing her to Master Axe."

"They would kill all three of us," Drift said pointed out simply. Thorn did say that much truth, Drift _couldn't_ stop him if he took off. "Possibly all four of us, given convincing Dai Atlas you _didn't_ know from the beginning could be tough."

Drift had a point, though Thorn was not going to say that. His deep ruby optics glittered at the shorter grounder. "What's it worth to you for me _not_ to tell anyone?" the jet purred after a moment, letting his gaze wander over Drift's frame. The grounder had been intriguing before, in his white armor, and was even more so now.

~I can't get away,~ Wing keened in distress. ~You have to stop him from getting away with her.~

~I know. I'll deal with it,~ Drift promised as he focused on the mech who had been trying to 'face him since his arrival. "What do you want?"

The glitter in Thorn's optics only increased. "How about... you," he responded, making absolutely no effort to hide the lust in his gaze as he looked Drift over again. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of the lack of reaction in Drift, other than annoyance and flickers of hate.

It wasn't what he'd expected given the difficulties he'd had up to now. Neither was the calculated way the dark grounder was looking at him, rather like he was the one being pursued, rather than the pursuer.

"Exact act?" Drift demanded, edging closer.

Thorn's grin widened. "Me spiking you. From behind." The last part was purred, the black mech's fanlike wings flaring and vibrating with anticipation.

"How long will that buy your silence?" Drift was focused on his sparkling even though he was looking at Thorn.

Thorn purred. "Until I want you again," he replied after a moment, shifting the squirming sparkling in his arms.

That earned a low growl and a nod. Drift held his hands out for his creation expectantly. ~It's dealt with for now,~ he tried to calm Wing down without letting on exactly what he'd traded for their creation.

Thorn made a clucking sound. "I'll hold onto her until we get back to your hideaway." To make sure Drift wouldn't make any attempts to get out of the arrangement.

Despite the flash of anger-frustration, Drift turned around and stalked back to the door that Thorn still hadn't managed to hack. He quickly palmed the control and databurst the code through his palm. The door slid open and he turned his helm to make sure Thorn was still there as he walked inside.

The black mech slipped inside after him, flaring his wings, pleased at having gotten into the lair he'd been barred from entering for vorns. Wing had been refusing to let him in since, he suspected, just before the sparkling had actually separated. Glancing around, Thorn could see the telltale signs of sparkling-proofing, as well as toys scattered about here and there. There were also the expected signs of long-term residence by both Knights.

"You're in," Drift rounded on him, demanding his sparkling back.

"Quite a cozy little nest you two've made in here," Thorn crooned, finally yielding the squirming sparkling. He wandered farther inside, keeping an optic on Drift while he took in the changes that had been made since the last time he had been in the den. It had been complete then, he was coming to decide, though there were the beginnings of a new room being carved out. No doubt for the sparkling when it was older.

It was adorable, in his opinion, how Drift's entire focus went to the squirming little mass of lanky limbs the moment it was handed over. He actually _cooed_ at the little thing to settle it, and it _did_. Quite the good pet of a creator. Wing should be proud of his work in civilizing and training the dark grounder.

Drift was now ignoring him, walking towards the berthroom with a settled sparkling in his arms.

Thorn sauntered after the grounder, watching Drift's interaction with the little sparkling. It was adorable, and no little bit amusing, to see how domesticated Drift had become. Following Drift into the berthroom, Thorn actually purred as he took in the coverings and metal-mesh pillows on the berth. One of them had been spoiling the other. Thorn would have bet on it having been Wing. The berth was set up well for impromptu bondage too. Perfect.

He watched Drift coo an apology to the sparkling before putting it in stasis, settling it in the crib and locking a grated lid. Interesting. So the little one was already an escape artist. Definitely got that from Wing.

With that done, Drift turned to face Thorn and spread his arms slightly. "I'm yours until Wing returns."

Thorn sauntered over to the dark-armored grounder, flaring his fanlike wings. "Oh yes, you are mine." He maneuvered Drift toward the lush berth, pulling a length of leftover metal cable from his last round of chores in the Citadel from his subspace. The black jet wasn't stupid; he could almost smell the hostility flowing from the shorter, heavier mech. 

As quickly as he could manage, Thorn whipped the bit of cable out, winding it around Drift's wrists and pulling it tight. It would at least reduce the chance of Drift ripping his helm off his neck as he overloaded. 

Without complaint Drift turned around and knelt on the berth, lowering himself to his forearms and slid his valve cover open.

The taller jet took a moment to look over the dark grounder and just drink in the sight. The sight of Drift kneeling, valve open, waiting for him, was intoxicating. Thorn let an unholy smirk slide across his features as he settled into the berth, running his palms over Drift's flanks and sides and lower back.

"Such a pretty little pet," the black jet crooned as his spike pressurized out of its housing, already slick with lubricants, and a gray digit slid down to circle the rim of Drift's valve. It was no surprise that Drift was dry, but it also quivered, used to being touched and enjoying it.

Long fingers slid into the quivering valve, set on exploring and locating every sensor node in reach. Thorn's thumb traced over one of the sensor-rich platelets surrounding the entrance while two fingers mapped out the valve's interior, catching and kneading a sensor node between them.

He was rewarded by a full-frame shiver and flare of pleasure across Drift's field, then a soft moan. The grounder held still, a trickle of lubricant oozing into his valve as the flexible lining contracted around the invading fingers.

Thorn's grin widened as his fingers delved deeper into the valve, reaching in as far as they could go, then parting and dragging torturously slowly down the inner walls, over the sensor nodes. His other hand continued to explore dark plating, relishing how easily Drift heated up under his touch, the shivers he drew from his new pet, how slick the space around his fingers became.

He wasn't the least bit fooled that Drift was actually _enjoying_ this, but physically, it was working nicely.

Thorn let out a pleased purr at the slickness. Wing certainly had the grounder well-trained. Twisting his wrist to let his fingertips spiral slightly along the valve's walls as he withdrew them, the black jet leaned over Drift, supporting himself with one hand as he lined up his spike with the grounder's valve entrance. This close, their plating pressed together, there was no hiding for Drift. His emotions were laid bare to the experienced snoop. Anger, humiliation, submission ... the whisper that it was well worth it ... and buried deep, an enjoyment that neither expected.

Thorn's wings flared out as he firmly grasped Drift's hips, sheathing his spike in one smooth thrust. A low moan escaped his vocalizer as he pushed into the tight, slick passage, fingers tightening on Drift's hips. Around him the grounder's valve tensed and rippled, responding on reflex to make it good for both of them. Drift's field flickered with more _shame-hate_ , but also with pleasure at the familiar act he'd learned to enjoy even if he didn't want it.

It was the emotions as much as the movements of Drift's valve that drew a pleasured moan from Thorn's vocalizer. He ran one hand down the center of Drift's back, along the channel where the dark grounder's Great Sword usually rested, remaining still for a long moment simply to savor the sensations.

"What a good berthpet you are," Thorn cooed, leaning down to bite at the back of Drift's neck.

Drift growled. "Enjoy it while you can," he hissed.

The response drew a dark chuckle from the taller jet. "Oh, I certainly intend to," was the silky response as Thorn finally began to move, setting a hard, fast pace.

Drift cursed himself for enjoying it, for slipping back into the mentality he'd had for so much of his existence, both before the Decepticons and as Deadlock. Yet his true focus had to remain on keeping the sick feeling, and what was happening, from Wing. He knew his mate would come as soon as he could, so stressing him over something he couldn't help would only make it worse.

He turned off his optics and focused on the pleasure. As much as it made his tanks churn to feel the charge building and make his assailant happy, he also knew that in the end, for him, it was better to let the pleasure build, let the overload happen, let the mecha taking him have what they wanted, and get even later. There was no point to fighting once he'd consented to save his family.

He'd done and endured far, far worse with less at stake.

Thorn's fingers dug into the seams of Drift's armor, scraping roughly over the circuitry. His hips pounded into Drift's, the taller mech's optics now turned off, Thorn making a rhythmic grunt in time with his thrusts. The charge was building fast for them both, but especially for Thorn.

Drift was more than willing to not overload if Thorn didn't force the issue.

Thorn didn't much care if Drift overloaded or not. He was completely focused on his own pleasure. The black jet pulled Drift's hips back into each thrust, hot air almost blasting from Thorn's vents. Grunts had turned into soft moans, charge already beginning to nip at his systems.

With the shift in focus Drift turned a bit of attention to working the spike in his valve, encouraging Thorn's charge even as he thanked Primus he wasn't carrying. The last thing he would ever want was to have a sparkling built on contributions of a rapist.

The black jet's hips slammed against Drift's as Thorn overloaded hard, his fingers digging painfully into the seams along Drift's sides, excess charge leaping across his plating, snapping at Drift's haunches and back. Hot transfluid spurted from Thorn's spike, filling Drift's valve.

It was _almost_ enough to trigger an overload, it could have if Drift had wanted it to. But with his mate coming home, with the potential for that energy to be spent with one who actually cared for him, the grounder fought his frame's desires down and simply accepted the sensations of the mech over him.

It could have been so much worse. Thorn at least fit in him without tearing the lining or breaking calipers. He was taller, but not actually bigger.

Purring with pleasure, trembling all over from the sensations and the intense satisfaction, Thorn collapsed over Drift, taking his time removing himself from the grounder's valve.

" _Very_ good berthpet," Thorn purred. "Very well-trained."

"I wish I could introduce you to the mech who trained me," Drift growled, vindictive glee flowing freely at the thought.

Thorn only chuckled, finally sliding free and lounging back against one of the pillows. He didn't even bother retracting his spike.

The sound of the door opening, then the sound of pedes on floor caught the attention of both mechs. Wing had arrived.

~Berthroom, I'm bound, he's on my far side,~ Drift supplied with a tactical databurst.

"Have fun when Wing reclaims you," Thorn patted Drift's raised aft as he rolled off the berth to stand. "You two did make a pretty jetling."

Wing was into the berthroom a moment later, wings flared, armor on end. Gold optics were glowing fiercely. This was a _furious_ dark jet. Bristling angrily, Wing advanced on the taller jet.

"He's all yours," Thorn motioned to the bound and glaring dark grounder on the berth, his aft still in the air and valve dripping transfluid. "You trained him well."

The shorter jet snarled at him. "He's _my_ mate. Not my pet, and certainly not yours. Don't you ever touch him again!"

"I'll have him when I want, as my pet, if you want that," he motioned to the crib, "to remain a secret."

~Kill him, or free me and I will,~ Drift pleaded on the bond, struggling against the cable binding his wrists in earnest.

Wing's snarl dropped to dangerous depths. He took a step closer to the other black jet, bringing the blaster he carried out of subspace and pressing the barrel against Thorn's helm.

The taller jet's optics widened and brightened as he processed the forbidden object.

"You've had your fun," Wing growled, optics flaring. "Drift is _my_ mate, not your plaything, and she is _my_ sparkling. I have absolutely no problem with shooting you or letting Drift shoot you if you a) open your mouth about her, or b) come near my mate again."

The black jet flicked the safety off, letting the gun power up, so that Thorn knew he was serious.

"Right. No touching Drift, no thinking about the sparkling that doesn't exist," Thorn kept his focus on the blaster, trying to pull up data he'd deleted long ago on its range and damage capacity as he worked on edging towards the door. He was very mindful to edge around Wing on the far side from the crib, not all that keen to find out what the younger jet would do if he came between Wing and his creation.

Wing sidled closer to the berth, pulling out one of his smaller blades. Moving so that he could keep one optic on the retreating Thorn at the same time, he sliced through the cable binding Drift, releasing the obviously furious grounder.

"He's all yours, my love," Wing purred to Drift, very deliberately stepping out of the way but still keeping his gun trained on Thorn.

Thorn made one step back and fired his turbines, taking off to escape the lunge Drift didn't hide. He forgot to account for the fact that sparkling proofing meant the main door was nearly as well locked from inside as outside.

Wing grinned and strolled after his mate, his delight nearly feral when Drift caught up with Thorn at the main door and crashed into the slender jet, crunching him between the much heavier grounder's armored frame and the very solid, heavy door.

Powering down the blaster and resting the barrel against his shoulder, Wing let out a purr at the crunch of metal and the resulting yelp. He stood to one side, watching with pleasure as Thorn was quite thoroughly mauled. Bits of black metal clattered against the floor.

Oh, the jet fought back. He fought for his very spark. Cornered against a protective creator, much heavier and with far more to-the-death fighting experience, it wasn't long before Thorn went limp and Drift tore his chest plate clean off, allowing the deep red spark glow into the room.

Subspacing the blaster, Wing stepped forward to grasp Drift's shoulders, dig in his pedes, and pull his mate off the mangled jet. ~You can't kill him... At least not yet. It would raise too many questions, questions we really don't want to have to answer,~ Wing told Drift softly. ~But he's gotten the message. He won't touch you again if he wants to live.~

Panting growls was all Drift managed to respond with, his focus on Thorn.

They both knew, could feel, that Drift was beyond thinking, beyond reason. He was down to instinct ... and that instinct included complying with Wing. Even if he didn't want to.

Wing pressed himself against Drift's back, looking over his shoulder at the mangled jet, purring in his mate's audial, wings fluttering behind him. Watching that had wound him up so much that when he finally got his mate in the berth, it would take very little to make him overload.

~He's no longer a threat,~ the smaller black jet purred, rubbing his cheek against Drift's.

With a rumble Drift turned his helm to claim a kiss, easily shifting from violence to arousal, especially in response to the mech he _always_ wanted. ~Take me.~

Wing returned the kiss, rubbing himself against his mate's armor, hands sliding into seams to stroke and caress. The dark jet hummed into the kiss, his feral delight at watching Thorn go down under his mate's attack resonating down their bond. One hand slipped down to just brush the rim of Drift's valve, still slick with lubricant and transfluid.

~Yes,~ Drift turned, needing to _see_ who was touching him. The fields, the knowing wasn't enough. His hands ran down Wing's sides, drawing him forward as Drift backed up to brace himself against the wall next to his near-kill. ~Not damaged. Just ... used.~

Wing leaned into Drift's hands, fluttering his wings, his cockpit glass scraping lightly against the grounder's heavier chestplate. The dark jet settled between Drift's thighs, shifting his hips to slide his spike into the offered valve. Leaning forward, Wing nuzzled against his mate, rubbing his cheek armor against Drift's cheek, jaw, and shoulder.

The sigh of pleasure, of _relief_ , was as sweet as ever as Drift held him, worked his spike eagerly, rocked into his light thrusts and returned the nibbling kisses and rubbing. The bond snapped open, offering Wing all that Drift had held back, held in, from that first moment of panic when he realized Starcrossed had escaped through what Thorn had done, to the mixture of shame and relief when he heard his mate arrive.

Fluttering wings stiffened, trembling, as the emotions that flowed through the bond. Wing chirred, almost vibrating with rage at the black jet laying mauled on the floor at their pedes. The rage slid into the fierce, feral joy and the pleasure Wing had taken in watching Thorn getting ripped apart. Reassurance reach back, wrapping around Drift, riding a tidal wave of love.

Already on the edge of overload just from watching the mauling, it only took a few firm thrusts to drive the dark jet over the edge. His kissed Drift fiercely, keening into his mouth, prickles of excess charge jumping between them.

Drift moaned, taking the charge Thorn had built up, the charge of being completely free to maul with his bare hands, the pleasure of being with _Wing_ and the charge his mate was offering with his overload. A deep, grateful sound escaped the grounder into their kiss as a much gentler overload than normal washed through him, soothing the worst of shame as it washed away the physical evidence.

Thought was beyond them both, but their bond was pulsing with emotions, reassuring each other that they still stood together and the other was forgiven any failing in the events.

Wing pressed himself as close to his mate as he could physically get, wrapping his arms around Drift's frame. Warm gold optics met deep red. Love, forgiveness, understanding, and reassurance poured through the bond, wrapping around Drift like a warm blanket. It was accepted, welcomed, and Drift held him in return, similar emotions and assurances flowing to Wing in reply.

~Are we even going to try and explain what happened?~ Drift glanced at the mech slowly bleeding out at their pedes.

~We'll probably have to tell someone _something_ to explain how Thorn got so mangled,~ Wing replied. ~But it won't be as bad as it would be if we haul his deactivated carcass back to the Citadel, tempting as the thought may be.~

Drift hummed, accepting even if he wasn't so happy with it. ~The near-truth, I think. He used me, we beat the bolts out of him. It's not like anyone should be surprised that happened.~

~By now I think half the city knows just how possessive I am,~ Wing purred in agreement. ~Too bad Thorn seems to have missed that memo.~ The dark jet vented softly, warm air skirling over Drift's dark armor. ~I can scrape him up and haul what's left of him out of the tunnels for Redline if you'd rather get cleaned up.~

~Yes, and wake Starcrossed up, comfort her,~ Drift nodded, reluctant to let go but knowing he had to. ~She didn't see what he did to me, but she knows something bad was going to happen because he caught her.~

It took Wing a klik to peel himself away from his mate, leaning in for one last nuzzle and soft chirr before stepping away. He regarded the puddle of Thorn on the floor, then began gathering up all the important bits. 

~I'll be back as soon as Redline and whoever else finishes interrogating me, and then I'm going to latch onto you and not let go until sometime tomorrow,~ the dark jet promised as he grabbed the nearest semi-intact limb and literally dragged Thorn out the door.

~Good,~ Drift replied as he headed for the washrack, very open with just how much he wanted that.


	15. Ready for a Sibling?

Wing strolled into the Citadel's medical bay, looking completely nonchalant. He didn't want anyone suspecting anything or getting suspicious at all.

The dark jet and his mate had been trying hard to kindle a second sparkling, this time in Wing, since shortly after Starcrossed had separated. The jet had been feeling decidedly odd for a few orns, and figured it was worth a trip to see Redline. He has a suspicion that their efforts had finally paid off, but hadn't yet shared his suspicions with Drift. Not after over thirty vorns and half a dozen false hopes.

Pausing just inside the door of the medical bay, Wing paused and looked around, wondering where Redline might be.

"What are you here for?" the chief medic's voice nearly made him jump.

Wing started, but managed to refrain from actually jumping. The dark jet turned toward the CMO's voice, smiling slightly at the red and white. "I'm here for a checkup, actually..." Golden optics quickly swept the room, looking for eavesdroppers.

"That odd energy drain again?" Redline asked, motioning the black jet into a private room.

Wing nodded. "And some other odd feelings." He settled onto the berth, wings tight to his back with nervous tension, chewing on his lower lip. He wanted so badly for it to have worked this time.

The chief medic nodded and hooked his primary sensor suite into Wing's medical port. He hummed, rumbled and ran the series three times. "It seems it's finally not just in your processors. The drain is real, and quite natural. It's time for you and Drift to plan for you to disappear this time."

The large mech paused, unplugged, and whacked Wing upside the helm. "You've been _trying_ to get grounded."

Golden optics lit up, the dark jet perking up like a desert plant after one of the brief, rare rains. He didn't even feel the hit. "It worked this time? It really worked?"

Wing was about ready to literally bounce off the walls. A flare of excitement leaked through the bond. Drift perked up on the other end, though he couldn't give it _that_ much attention as he was working on not getting sent to the medbay himself during a sparring match with Atl.

"Yes, it worked. I don't suppose you _asked_ if you could have this one?" Redline grumbled.

The dark jet looked sheepish. "Uhm... no..." He rubbed the back of his neck. Dai Atlas had been particularly volatile lately, and Wing had been very reluctant to approach either of his creators about anything for a long time.

"And you aren't planning to, either. Are you?" Redline vended a resigned sigh.

Wing shook his helm, the set of his wings decidedly stubborn.

"I'll do what I can to help, but you _must_ stop kindling before you have an entire flock out there," the medic glowered at him. "Eventually threats and blackmail won't be enough to keep it a secret. Not once Starcrossed learns to fly."

"It took us this long just to kindle once intentionally," Wing pointed out. "We will do what we have to."

" _Most_ don't even start trying until their current one is a final stage mechling, at the very soonest," Redline pointed out. "At the rate you're going, you'll have half a dozen or more by the time she's an adult."

Dark wings shifted. "We hadn't planned on trying for more. Drift carried one, and I wanted to carry one. Two was all we'd considered."

Redline stared at him, gauging the truth of the statement. "Then you won't object to a new pair of inhibitors being installed once this one separates."

~Drift?~ Wing relayed Redline's question/statement to his mate.

~I won't,~ he replied, his focus clearly elsewhere despite the understanding across the bond.

Wing returned his attention to Redline, nodding. "Yes, both of us will get new inhibitors when the sparkling I carry separates."

"Now let's hope for small miracles and you manage to teach these two to fly before they get caught by something violent," Redline grumbled. "Come on, I'll give you a metacycle's worth of supplements."

Wing shuddered at the thought. "Primus willing, both will fly, and fly fast, before anything can catch them." He hopped off the table, following Redline.

* * *

Drift twisted half way down the tunnel to their hideaway and pushed Wing against the rough stone wall to kiss him, hunger to be inside his mate's body flaring hot and bright between them.

Wing made a surprised chirp, then melted against his mate's frame, nuzzling into gray and black metal. He returned the kiss, bracing his back against the rough stone wall and reaching out to grasp Drift's heavy armor, pulling him closer.

"We did it," Wing breathed, rubbing the nasal of his helm against Drift's cheek. "I'm sparked. We did it."

"Yes, we did it," Drift purred, rubbing his entire frame against Wing's, relishing the friction and sparks it generated. "Though it does mean at least six metacycles of very little action for your valve."

The dark jet let out a mock-whine at that. He enjoyed being the one taking it, loved the feel of a thick spike pounding into him. Then he fluffed his armor, pressing as close to Drift as he could manage. "I'll endure it, for the sake of our new sparkling."

"As will I," Drift rumbled, nuzzling into another heated kiss as his hands roved over black armor, eagerly exploring the openings he was given to stroke and tease the wiring and systems underneath. "One last night of being spiked, to celebrate?"

Wing's valve cover popped open, lubricant dripping out onto dark thighs in response. The jet purred at the strokes and teases to his wiring, flaring his armor to give Drift more access that was eagerly taken advantage of.

Drift's spike cover slid open, allowing his spike to pressurize between them, eager for the familiar pleasure of Wing's body. ~I'm going to miss filling you with my fluid,~ Drift rumbled, rubbing his spike between his mate's legs, against the slick, sensitive platelets with a low moan. ~It feels so good to be inside you.~

~It feels better having you inside me,~ Wing cooed in response, nibbling daintily at Drift's jaw. He lifted one leg, wedging it under Drift's hip scabbard, pulling Drift closer.

A deep rumble vibrated between them as Drift's glossa pressed into Wing's mouth, exploring and mapping the well-known space. He shifted his hips and sank into his mate's valve with an easy thrust until he was hilted, the tip of his spike pressed against the thick cluster of sensory nodes at the very end.

Wing moaned softly into the kiss, his glossa stroking along Drift's. Dark-plated hips rolled into Drift's, the calipers working over Drift's spike. Wing's wings unfolded slowly, gleaming black, as the dark jet pressed against his mate, sliding his fingers into the closest armor seams. Pleasure flowed across their bond, across tightly meshed fields and sparked through systems as Drift began to move.

Slowly, a long, controlled slide in and out, Drift used all his self control to take his time and build their charge slowly, enjoying his mate in ways they rarely bothered to take the time for.

Black hips rolled into each thrust, matching the lazy pace Drift set. Wing let his optics deactivate as bliss poured through him, his wings fluttering and wiggling against the stone wall. The dark jet rubbed against his mate, nipping at the wires and cables of his neck, reaching around to slide nimble fingers into Drift's spaulders.

"I'm going to take you like this all night," Drift promised with a deep moan, the first zap of his building charge dancing across their armor. He reached out to stroke fluttering wings, knowing fingers digging into seams and stroking control surfaces.

Wing pressed himself shamelessly into his mate's hands, writhing and twisting sensually, wings tilting into strong dark hands. "I greatly look forward to it," the jet purred, flaring his armor to let Drift reach the sensitive wiring underneath. His valve flexed around Drift's spike, the calipers rippling along its length in a complex pattern he knew could drive the grounder wild.

With a shuddering moan Drift surrendered to the effort, picking up the pace. His mouth never let go of Wing's while his hands continued to work the slender black wings.

Wing let out a purr of bliss, kneading Drift's back and spaulders and the back of his neck. He shifted his hips, changing the angle slightly, letting out a throaty moan as his mate's spike rubbed over a new set of sensors.

Drift's optics flickered off as he lost himself in the building pleasure, safe in this tunnel that no one ventured into since he'd torn Thorn to shreds. The easy rhythm, the familiar slickness that knew him so well, the gradual charge that built until it demanded he speed up again.

The kiss broke as Drift had to pant in an effort to cool systems that were running too hot to be cooled.

Wing's armor was standing on end, fully fluffed out, his cooling fans running loudly enough to nearly drown out the revving of his engines. His hips rocked into Drift's, urging him to pick up the pace, to move faster and harder. A whine of need escaped Wing's throat.

~I'd never leave you hanging,~ Drift moaned, teasing and promising at the same time. He shifted his stance, giving himself a new angle, but more, giving himself a better angle to drive his mate into the wall as he surrendered his self-control to the roaring charge in his systems.

Wing was probably going to be leaving streaks of dark paint on the wall as he braced against it, moaning at each thrust. His hands were into every seam, seeking out the most sensitive places, his mouth all over Drift's jaw and neck and upper chest. He writhed in Drift's arms, rubbing against him, giving himself over to his mate. The reward was bliss as processor blowing as anything the dark jet had known.

The bond was pulled fully open, nearing the sharing quality of a merge without the risk of exposing their sparks. The physical pleasure and emotional satisfaction flowed freely as Drift descended into grunting with each driving thrust. His hands moved to Wing's hips, taking full control of the rutting.

Within a handful of thrusts Drift roared, his transfluid erupting into Wing, the hot liquid roaring over sensor nodes with its intense charge zapping each and every one.

Wing's ecstasy-laden, joyful screech of overload would have startled any other mecha right out of their armor had there been any around to hear. He bucked against Drift, clinging tightly to him for balance, charge dancing like lightning over his plating, jumping to Drift's even as Drift's charge leapt to his.

When Drift stilled, his frame locked in the final stage of emptying his reservoir into his mate, his grip stilled Wing as well. Both their frames and vocalizers made tiny sounds as they remained there, locked in the intimate embrace until their systems cooled enough to give some control back.

Soft, lazy kisses found Wing's mouth as Drift gradually relaxed and released his death-grip on Wing's hips.

Wing almost melted into Drift's arms, body almost limp, trusting Drift and the stone wall to keep him upright. The dark jet, practically a puddle of goo or as close to it as a mech could get, was purring with sated contentment as he tucked his helm under Drift's chin. Their bond hummed with joint _contentment-pleasure-love_ that included the tiny ball of not-yet-conscious energy feeding off of Wing's spark.

~Love you,~ Drift whispered between them as he began to come down from the post-overload contentment.

~Love you, too,~ Wing purred softly, nestling into Drift's arms and venting in utter contentment. His purr vibrated his plating slightly, rattling ever so faintly against Drift's as Drift's spike depressurized and retracted from his valve.

Gently Drift settled him on his pedes. "We really should take charge of Starcrossed again," he murmured. "I'm sure she's curious what all the excitement was today."

"She's curious about everything," Wing chuckled, lowering his leg and making sure he was steady on his pedes before pushing away from the wall. He glanced back, noting a few streaks of black paint on the stone, wings twitching before folding to his spine. A few more scrape marks to add to the thousands of others they'd left over the vorns.

"You'll lose a lot more paint by the time I'm done with you," Drift promised with a low growl and flare of desire across the bond. Yet he lightly tugged his mate towards their door instead of pinning him against rock again.

"I'll get you to help me touch up my paint," Wing cooed, batting his optics at his mate. He leaned against Drift's side as they returned to their den, humming softly. One wing stretched out to rest lightly against Drift's back in a familiar and welcome contact.

"Anytime," Drift purred in reply, snatching a kiss before he unlocked the door. Half to his surprise he wasn't immediately assaulted by the mid-stage sparkling.

"I have her," a rich, strong voice called to them from inside.

"I see the approach sensor we installed is working," Drift chuckled by way of greeting as he stepped inside to take in the lanky, squirming form of his sparkling securely held in strong but gentle arms of the caretaker they had finally agreed on.

"Quite well," Governess agreed as she walked smoothly forward to hand the happily chirring sparkling to her carrier.

"Thank you," Drift said almost ritually, listening absently as she gave them a rundown on how much recharge, energon and activity Starcrossed had while they were gone, along with the sparkling's mood and what trouble she'd gotten into.

~She's the best choice we've made in a while,~ Drift commented as they saw Governess out, confirming when they wanted her back. 

~Starcrossed likes her, and Governess loves working with her,~ Wing replied. ~We lucked out finding her. And she's a fast airframe, which will be very helpful when Starcrossed starts flying.~ The dark jet stepped closer, leaning down to nuzzle the small jetling, trilling a greeting.

~That'll be when I start rigging traps from here to the entrance,~ Drift chuckled, watching his mate and their creation trill at each other for a moment. Part of him was thoroughly disgusted by the domestic scene and his place in it, but most of him was enjoying having everything he hadn't had as a new creation too much to worry about that acidic voice in the back of his processors.

"What happened?" Starcrossed demanded with a grin, knowing it was good news.

"I'm carrying a newspark," Wing told her, fluttering his wings happily. "You're going to have a sibling, a sister or brother."

~As long as you disable those traps long enough for us to get through,~ the dark jet told his mate with a chuckle.

~Triggers will be set to ignore our transponders,~ Drift promised, a hint of just how often he'd employed such traps in the thought.

"A playmate?" Starcrossed's wing struts, still largely bare but now clearly displaying that they would fold and move like Wing's, fluttered happily. "I'll have a playmate soon?"

"In a few metacycles," Wing replied. "It's still just a tiny spark yet." The dark jet's optics were glowing, his field pulsing with happiness.

"Will I be able to feel it soon, like I do with you?" she chirred in excitement, eager for a social mate. Even at her age, she was feeling the protocols to be part of a flock.

"Maybe," Wing replied. "It's too small to be felt right now, but maybe you will be able to feel it when it's older." He leaned in to nuzzle the small femme, now able to stand almost to their hip, then his own mate. That nuzzle turned into a kiss.

"If I'm quiet and stay in my room, no stasis?" she asked with a look of pure pleading that not even Wing had mastered so well.

If that look had Drift wrapped around Wing's little finger, from Starcrossed it had the same effect on Wing. The dark jet's wings twitched, and he looked at Drift in silent question, asking what his mate thought.

~With the exception of the front door, when have we managed to deny her?~ Drift chuckled softly, resigned to the truth of it even as it amused him to watch Wing's tactics turned on Wing.

Wing vented, turning his attention back to Starcrossed. "As long as you stay in your room," he replied. One dark wing extended to brush against Drift's armor.

She trilled a cheer and sent a burst of _love-thanks_ across both bonds. "I'll be good," she promised, reaching out to hug Wing.

The dark jet trilled softly, returning the hug. ~She's got us _both_ under her spell, love; we are going to be in so much trouble when she hits the "rebellious" stage,~ he commented to Drift, amusement threading through the words.

~You mean she hasn't already?~ Drift rumbled in tolerant amusement and put their creation down. "What did you and Governess do today?"

* * *

* * *

* * *

"I see his hand!" Starcrossed chirred in excitement, trying desperately to get out of Drift's grip to crawl down Wing's chassis and help her brother escape his carrier's frame.

There was a chirrup and a flurry of wiggling from inside Wing's open torso as the new sparkling responded to the sound. Wing managed to restrain his squirming to his wings, flared open and twitching, as he peered down his frame.

"He's certainly eager to get out," Wing noted, making a face but not taking his gaze from what he could see of what was happening down there.

"Starcrossed, can you promise not to tug anything?" Redline suddenly asked.

She looked up at him and nodded furiously. "I won't hurt creator or sibling," she promised.

"Then if Wing doesn't mind, you can put her down," the medic glanced between the mates. "The separation is going well."

Wing pondered for a moment, then nodded, watching with fascination as a tiny hand worked its way out of his torso, glistening with fluids. Starcrossed was set on the berth and allowed to scurry to his side, where she put both hands on his hip and hunkered down, chirring and cooing encouragement to her emerging sibling.

As soon as his hands were free, Drift began to stroke the squirming wings, trying to soothe and relax his mate. There was more wriggling, during which the dark jet latched onto Drift's hand and refused to let go, before the tiny helm began to show.

~He takes after you, just as intended,~ Drift murmured.

Wing craned his neck for a better look, the planes and angles of his own cockpit somewhat obscuring the view. The wing being petted stretched into Drift's hand, continuing to tremble.

The sparkling, Nightsun, chittered and clicked back at Starcrossed, enthusiastically trying to free himself from Wing's internals. Bright purple optics peeked out over parted armor plates, blinking at his older sister, then the sparkling began wriggling in earnest.

Starcrossed continued to cheer him on, but as promised, she didn't _touch_ , though it was obvious she wanted to help more directly than she was.

Drift smiled and opened their bond up more to share his view of the separation, pointing out all the ways that Nightsun looked like his carrier.

One tiny wing strut wiggled free and Starcrossed clapped his achievement, and the visual confirmation that he was indeed a jetling.

Wing cooed, looking at his separating creation through his mate's optics, admiring the tiny wings and audial flares. His hand tightened on Drift's, the trembling of his wings subsiding for the moment.

Nightsun trilled, pausing briefly to look around through bright purple optics before resuming the struggle to get out. Tiny wing struts flopped open, wiggling the same way Wing's did, as the sparkling pulled and pushed out of his carrier's body.

"You are doing well, Nightsun," Redline told him, then glanced up at Wing. "As are you. Well configured and energetic. An excellent sign."

"You didn't talk to me this much," Starcrossed pouted.

"You were too focused on escaping to care what I said," Redline smirked at her. "Nightsun, it seems, is not quite as volatile."

"Makes sense. His carrier isn't either," Drift pointed out.

Bright optics turned toward the medic, chirping brightly at the red and white before Nightsun finally managed to get a leg free. The tiny pede scrabbled against Wing's armor and exposed struts, seeking some purchase with which to push himself all the way out. The chitter when he almost fell back in sounded distinctly rude and made Starcrossed snicker.

Wing shook his helm in amusement. "Looks like he's already developing Drift's vocabulary," the dark jet teased, looking up at his mate.

"He had to get _something_ from me," he teased back, watching the lanky protoform as it finished pulling itself free.

Nightsun pulled his other pede free, flopping across Wing's armor with a relieved purr. He lay still for a moment, then turned his attention to his older sister, crawling determinedly in her direction.

"Beautiful," Wing murmured.

"Fast too, if I'm any judge," Drift added with a soft smile.

Now that 'no tugging' wasn't likely, Starcrossed scrambled the rest of the way up and gleefully grabbed the cloth that Redline handed her to begin cleaning up her little brother while chirring and chirping at him happily.

~I think we have a good caretaker in her,~ Drift added with an amused grin.

Nightsun chirped back, trying his best to climb right onto her, his little wings wiggling against his back struts. He purred as he was cleaned off, grabbing at Starcrossed's hands. Wing squirmed a bit, moving so he could get a better look at how she was completely tolerant of the newly separated sparkling's grabbing at her while she worked.

With them all but twined together, it also emphasized just how little she'd grown in thirty vorns. She was only half again taller than he was, though her mass was likely three times as much. The difference between a newly separated sparkling and one half way to her first youngling upgrade.

~And I dread when they're old enough to team up on us,~ Wing replied with a chuckle, loosening his death grip on his mate's hand as his internals began resettling into their normal places, a process that, in full, would take another decaorn.

~They already are, I think,~ Drift chuckled, watching the scene with a delight he couldn't accept displaying with an outsider there.

"That is clean enough for now, Starcrossed," Redline smiled and reached for Nightsun. "It's time for his first checkup."

Tiny wings wiggled in agitation as Nightsun was picked up, the squirming sparkling giving Redline a scowl that was entirely too adorable to be actually threatening. Once he realized he wasn't going to be able to get away, Nightsun went limp, visibly sulking.

~You know what I mean,~ Wing retorted, sending images of all the trouble a pair of siblings could get into.

Redline chuckled and connected to the sparkling's medical port before beginning a physical inspection that was entirely too thorough for Nightsun's taste.

Nightsun scolded at the medic, swatting at his hands and trying to fluff up, though the fact that he was a protoform without armor made the attempt somewhat less than successful. Purple optics glared up into Redline's gold as the storm of scolding chittering and chirping continued.

The medic simply chuckled in amusement. "Lively, vocal, very well constructed." He set the sparkling down on Wing's chest, just above the spark that had nurtured it so well. "You did very well, Wing. Now you should both have some energon and recharge."

As if Redline's words had been a kind of "off" switch, Nightsun seemed to run out of steam, blinking and yawning. He flopped down onto warm black armor, letting out a soft chirr.

Wing chuckled softly. "Right on cue." He looked at Drift. "Love, could you pass me some energon?" He gave Drift his best "puppy optics".

~No need for the big guns for that,~ Drift chuckled and turned to fetch two cubes, one for his mate and one for the new creation.


	16. Crossing the Line

A high-pitched but quiet sound caught Drift's attention as he was studying with Shogun. Familiar, but it took him a moment to place it. Then pure terror gripped his spark as he bolted towards the sound.

Shogun jumped at the sudden movement, watching Drift dash out. When he heard the sound of Wing following, the red Knight shrugged and followed, wondering what was going on this time.

~Drift?~ Wing's voice was overlaid with nervousness as they bolted down a hallway. A high-pitched cry of terror echoed towards them.

~Starcrossed. She's here.~ Drift turned the corner at full speed only to come to a skidding halt.

Before him stood Dai Atlas, holding a squirming, keening youngling in one large hand and glaring at it.

Wing's pedes struck sparks as he slammed to a stop, optics wide with horror. A tiny squeak escaped him as he clutched Drift's arm, armor flattened to his frame and wings pressed so tightly to his back they creaked.

This was pretty much his worst nightmare come to life.

"Why would _you_ be chasing this thing?" the Knight's leader shifted his glare on Drift and Wing, a look Wing knew entirely too well as promising a slow, painful deactivation.

Wing's jaw worked, but the only thing that came out was a squeak. Starcrossed looked more like him than like Drift; one good, hard look would tell Dai Atlas more than either of the pair wanted him to know.

Shogun came around the corner behind them, catching up with his students, and came to a sudden halt when he saw what was going on.

"Would _this_ be why you went missing?" he snarled, squeezing her a little tighter. "You had a sparkling and _hid_ it from me?"

"Creators!" Starcrossed keened, desperate for escape.

::Redline!:: Drift pinged the chief medic, reaching out to one of their few allies. :: _He_ has her!::

"Wasn't planned..." Wing squeaked, shivering all over and clutching Drift's arm hard enough to leave dents. "Please... Let her go!"

Redline sounded helpless as he responded. ::I don't know what I can do... You know no one but Axe can control Dai Atlas. And I warned you that if she was discovered I would deny all knowledge.::

A frantic look behind him turned deep red optics on Shogun, Drift silently pleading, promising _anything_ for the senior Knight's aid.

"You know all sparklings must be authorized," Dai Atlas growled, squeezing a bit tighter before he turned on one heel. "I will deal with it for you."

"Let her go, Dai Atlas." Shogun's wings flared out all the way, his body tensing. One thing his personal code of honor would absolutely not permit was harming a sparkling. "She's innocent!" The red Knight advanced on Dai Atlas, Wing close behind him.

Drift shifted to one side, trying to sneak behind the dark blue giant.

Dai Atlas snorted. "Nothing that comes from my spark line is innocent."

Wing's sound of protest was high-pitched, his wide optics on the tiny form in Dai Atlas' massive hand, his own hand clutching red armor. Shogun's wings and some of his plating remained flared, his optics narrow and fixed on the deep blue mech.

"There is no crime in protecting one's offspring," Shogun snapped. "Let the sparkling go. She has done nothing wrong, and her creators were only trying to protect her."

Blue and black wings flared in a responding challenge. "Her existence is a crime against my orders," Dai Atlas hissed.

~Keep him distracted,~ Drift ordered across the bond as he got behind his mate's creator. Quietly, more afraid than he'd been in a very, very long time, Drift drew a short sword and focused his entire existence on a strike to save his creation's life.

Wing's wings flared out. "She's only a youngling! Let her go! Please!"

Shogun's armor bristled. One hand tightened into a fist, very tempted to reach for the massive hilt rising behind his helm. "Leave her alone, Dai Atlas."

With a flicker of his ever-growing madness glittering in ruby optics, Dai Atlas smirked at his challenger and squeezed tighter, choking off Starcrossed's ability to even squirm.

Without making a sound Drift lunged forward, cleanly severing arm from shoulder and sending it, and Starcrossed crashing to the ground as his optics blacked out.

Shogun darted forward, slamming his shoulder into Dai Atlas and knocking him out of the way, scooping up Starcrossed and prying the dark servo away from her tiny body. Holding the jetling close to red plating, the senior Knight flared wings and plating in a protective threat display, keeping wary optics on Dai Atlas.

The larger Knight roared as he surged to his pedes, but it was Drift that had all his attention.

Shogun and Wing both saw the realization cross Drift's features that there was no savior coming in the form of black plating.

~Get her. Go!~ Drift literally screamed across the bond, not even realizing he'd also spoken. With that his side of the bond slammed closed, the grounder knowing to his spark that either he or his mate's creator would die in the next few moments.

Shogun looked torn between taking Starcrossed and heading for the medbay or staying and watching. Wing was at his side in a moment, practically climbing the larger mech to get at the tiny shape cradled against the red chestplate.

Finally, the red Knight yielded the sparkling, pushing Wing down the corridor. "Get her to Redline, and fast. This is going to draw Axe in like cyber-wolves on a wounded robo-deer, and I'm closest to Axe in skill. Go!"

Wing wavered for a moment, then nodded, turned, and vanished down the corridor.

Drift dove across the confined space as Dai Atlas drew Strength of Conviction and swung at him before that blade had a chance to charge.

Shogun watched intently, sensors on alert. One way or another, this was going to end bloody. The red Knight shifted his hip sheaths, hand tightening on the shaft of his naginata. On his back, Song of the Warrior Lord's hilt gem pulsed with energy, informing him that it was ready for battle.

"What is the...." Axe's demanding roar died with the sound of a blaster shot.

For an impossibly long moment nothing seemed to move. Drift was on the floor, a compact heavy blaster in his hand, pointed at Dai Atlas. Dai Atlas was still, a large hole smoking through his chest and back, obliterating his spark chamber and much of the surrounding internals. Axe had stopped, frozen at the sight before him.

Shogun whirled on the black mech, weapon activated and ready. "Your mate threatened to kill a helpless sparkling. Her creators took exception to that. And so do I." Orange optics glowed fiercely over the glowing energy blade of his naginata, wings spread in a clear threat display.

Words didn't matter a nanoklik later as the broken bond crashed into Axe. With a keen that was half madness, half pain and all grief the glossy black mech rushed forward, oblivious to Shogun as anything other than an object between him and his mate as Dai Atlas began to gray and crumple to the ground.

Shogun snarled, bracing himself for what he knew was coming. Song of the Warrior Lord thrummed with readiness, ready to charge up and strike. The red Knight's hands tightened on the shaft of his weapon, his whole body tensing for the storm that was about to break. He'd seen what happened to bonded mates after one was killed. This was the calm before the pits broke loose.

A small bit of him knew sympathy for the black Knight as he cradled the broken and graying form that had once housed Dai Atlas. No matter how in the wrong Axe often was, the pain of a broken bond was a horrible way to spend your last moments.

A low, keening sob escaped Axe as the last of his mate's plating went gray and cooled. A tremor passed through his frame as he reached for his mate's Great Sword, already charged and capable of cutting even its own kind in half with a strong blow.

Drift had found his pedes and put his back to the nearest wall. No matter how much Knight was in him, no matter how strong his code of honor was compared to the average Knight of Shadow, the blaster remained firmly in his hand with the ease of one sparked to use the weapon.

::Drift, I would move if I were you,:: Shogun commed, moving to keep a very careful optic on Axe. ::I've seen scenes like this before. He's about to snap. And I would bet my right arm he's going after you.::

The red Knight eased toward Drift, moving with a slow, cautious step, ever wary.

::I know,:: Drift replied calmly. ::I'm counting on it.::

::I hope you know what you're doing,:: Shogun told him. ::Otherwise, he'll kill you.::

With a roar Axe lifted Strength of Conviction and rushed Drift. The crack of the blaster rang out, incinerating a hole in the black mech's chest even as Drift rolled to the side. Even being very dead, Axe's frame finished his lunge and strike, but all it did was destroy the wall behind where Drift had been.

There was another long moment of stillness when Drift stood calmly on his pedes and fixed his gaze on Shogun, trying to work out the large mech's reaction to such a blatantly dishonorable act.

Shogun looked at Drift, then at the graying black frame. The energy blade of his naginata disappeared, the shaft of the weapon a moment later. Crossing his arms over his chestplate, the red Knight regarded Drift for a moment before lifting one shoulder in a shrug. 

"Dai Atlas started the dishonorable conduct by threatening a sparkling," was his only comment on the matter, walking around Drift to collect Strength of Conviction and Sentry of Balance. "I saw nothing." One orange optic flickered toward Drift. "Wing and your little one are in the medical bay. Go. Now."

Drift gave a sharp nod and transformed on the run. He opened his bonds, offering what comfort he could to his mate. Even without asking, he knew Starcrossed had very little chance of survival. He only hoped she could hold on until he arrived.

Shogun watched the dark grounder go, then called for other Knights to help deal with the deactivated frames. He would get the two Great Swords back to the vault, then make his way up to the medical bay to see what was going on up there.

* * *

Wing was hovering as close as Redline would let him, armor flat to his frame, chewing restlessly on one knuckle. A very soft whine was rising from his vocalizer. All his attention was on his sparkling. He was still unaware of what had gone down with his mate and creators; he too distracted to notice the subtle opening of the bond with Drift that indicated it was over.

He didn't register it until Drift's arms were around him, pulling him gently into en embrace.

The dark jet jumped, caught by surprise, then slowly relaxed slightly as he recognized his own mate. Turning, Wing burrowed into Drift's embrace, his whole body shaking. Turmoil and emotional pain flowed through the bond as the soft whine began again.

"Shu, shu," Drift whispered, accepting his mate's grief. A glance at the tiny frame on the large berth and Redline's grim silence had been all he needed to know that their first creation wasn't going to make it. Three kin lost in a matter of a joor ... it was going to be long remembered as a terrible day for Wing. "Redline, may we take her home?"

The medic vented heavily, sorrow in every line of him. "I see no reason why not." He stepped aside, moving the equipment out of the way. "Let her spend what time she has left with her family."

"And her brother," Drift said quietly. His grieving would have to wait. At least one of them had to remain coherent. "Can you fly?" He nudged Wing.

The dark jet thought for a moment, looking unsure. One wing carefully extended partway, shaking from base to tip.

"I'm not sure I'd recommend flying in this state, but it is up to Wing," Redline noted after a long look at the shaking jet.

Behind the group, the door opened, and the pedefalls of a large mech crossed the room toward them. Shogun stopped next to Wing and Drift, his orange gaze dropping to the tiny form on the berth.

"I will fly them home, if they would permit," the red Knight offered quietly, looking over at the two.

Drift nodded, nudging Wing on their bond to let go so he could pick up Starcrossed. "Thank you," he said quietly. His spark erupted in pain with the way she relaxed as soon as she was close to his spark, comforted by the pulse of her carrier.

Shogun walked with them over to the balcony doors, crouching to carefully take hold of Drift and Wing, allowing Drift a moment to secure Starcrossed before the red mech pushed off. He banked in the direction he had seen Wing coming from on other occasions, figuring that was the direction to their lair.

Drift gave him a databurst of the cave entrance they wanted to go to.

"The Citadel will be in turmoil now, with both Axe and Dai Atlas dead," the red mech murmured as they passed over the city, changing course only once, to avoid one of the largest stalactites in the city cavern.

"Are you likely to come out on top?" Drift asked quietly.

Shogun obligingly headed toward the cave entrance. He hummed softly. "There is going to be a storm of politics for the next few orns, and Lightstrike might challenge me to an actual duel," he said after a moment. "The others... I don't see them as much of a challenge. There is a good chance I will be the next Circle leader."

Orange optics dropped briefly to the tiny form cradled securely in Drift's arms. "What is her name?" Shogun asked, very softly.

"Starcrossed," Drift murmured, another stab of agony hitting his spark as the bond with his creation, a spark his own had nurtured and a frame his own had built, began to unravel. "Wing said the truth. We didn't plan to kindle."

The sound Shogun made was one of sadness. "I grieve for your loss." He was silent for a moment, connecting sparkling with Drift's long absence, then wondering about Wing's. His voice was hesitant when he spoke again. "When you were absent from the Citadel for nearly a vorn, it was to carry and birth her, I assume. Then, Wing's more recent long absence..."

"Was more intentional," Drift admitted. "Nightsun is in our home."

The red mech descended toward the caves. "I promise you that no harm will come to your surviving sparkling," he told both mechs softly, flying into the cave as far as frame size and wingspan would allow before touching down and releasing them. "Take as much time as you need. The Citadel will be in an uproar, and it will probably take orns for the slagstorm to subside. You may return to us when you feel you are ready."

The big red mech bowed his helm solemnly to both Wing and Drift, stepping back, toward the tunnel mouth.

"Thank you," Drift's tone was genuine. He turned before Shogun had taken off, testament to both his grief disorienting him, his concern for his mate, and his trust of the large red jet. A gentle nudge and arm around the slender black waist drew Wing into the tunnel, Drift very much wanting to reach Nightsun before Starcrossed surrendered to the inevitable.

Catching his mate's urgency, Wing jogged into the tunnel. He would have run, but that would have jolted Starcrossed too badly. Shogun had actually flown them right into the caves as far as his large frame would fit rather than leaving them at the entrance, so they were actually fairly close to the door.

"Get the door," Drift's voice was low and urgent. "If Nightsun isn't already awake from all this, we need him checked out."

Wing nodded, moving forward to unlock the heavy door and pull it open. As soon as the crack was wide enough he was hit in the shins by a whimpering, keening black blur. Nightsun was wide awake, clinging to his carrier's leg as if he'd been welded there, purple optics wide and anxious. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew there was something terribly _wrong_.

With a clicking coo and gentle hands Wing convinced him to let go enough to be pick up and cradled so they could slip inside. As soon as the door closed Drift settled on the floor, low enough for Nightsun to see the crushed state of his sister.

"Dai Atlas caught her," Drift said softly, reaching out with the tiny thread of the bond he still had with her, trying to tell her it was okay to let go now.

"The big bad mech?" Nightsun's tiny wing struts pulled close to his back, the same way Wing's did when he was distressed. He crawled closer, reaching out to take his sister's hand, distress radiating from every line of his small body.

Wing keened softly, leaning on to wrap his arms around Nightsun and Drift, golden optics dull. He was as close to crying as a mech can get.

"Yes," Drift murmured, his intakes hitching as his systems briefly stalled with the snapping of the final strand of his carrier bond.

Wing let out a broken keen, burying his face against Drift's shoulder, his whole body shaking with emotion. The muffled keening continued as the dark jet vented his grief.

Nightsun's brief keen was higher pitched. The sparkling turned purple optics to Drift. "Did the bad mech pay for hurting her? Did you make him sorry?"

"Yes," Drift nearly growled as he tried to hold both Wing and Nightsun with his free arm. "He is dead."

Wing showed no reaction to being told that his creator was dead. His grief was for Starcrossed.

Nightsun's optics flared. "Good." That said, the tiny mech curled into his creator's arms, hugging the graying frame of his sister and letting out that high-pitched keen.

It was in watching and feeling the death of his creation with his family that Drift truly grasped how innocent even Wing was, or perhaps how jaded to the death of those he cared about he was. For Drift, this hurt, a great deal, but it was nothing more than another death to the list of those close to him. Gasket, Wing and Starcrossed were merely the brightest points of pain in a list that was far too long already.

It took several breems for Wing's keens to subside. The dark jet flopped against Drift, almost completely limp, his wings drooping. Nightsun burrowed into his creators' frames, whimpering, wanting his sister back. Her frame was cool and gray, however; it would never again display the glossy black, red and golds it bore in functioning.

"What do we do with the frame?" Drift asked, uncertain. Even among the Autobots, it was rare for a frame to see much more than being recycled. The war made resources too valuable to give to a departed spark.

Slowly, Wing lifted his head to meet his mate's optics. "It varies... Among the Knights, some are interred, some are melted down. Others are stripped for parts before being smelted. For Star... I would rather see her frame interred."

Drift meanly nodded his acceptance. Like so many other social things, he had no frame of reference to have preferences from.


	17. Endings and Beginnings

Several orns had passed since the death of Dai Atlas and Axe, and the chaos in the Citadel was finally starting to subside. Of the seven master Knights who had been candidates for the next leader of the Circle, two had backed out in the face of the political uproar. Of the remaining five, they were pretty much at a stalemate in their discussions.

The largest of the five, a red-armored airframe, vented heavily, leaning back in his seat. "This is getting nowhere." He looked around the chamber, ignoring Lightstrike's intense glare. "We've been locked in a stalemate for three orns now."

"And what do you suggest, then?" Bladewing asked, narrowing her optics at the larger mech.

"This decision doesn't just affect us. It affects the entire Circle. So, put it to a vote, like we do for new Initiates when they're ready to join the Knights." Orange optics moved over each other others.

"So you can rig the voting?" Lightstrike's optics narrowed suspiciously.

"I'm not rigging anything," Shogun retorted calmly.

"Master Shogun has a point," the second femme of the group, a small but exquisitely deadly Ankmorian Light Jet that went by Marwir, agreed. "This decision does affect the whole Circle. Perhaps a vote, of all the living Knights, would be the best way."

"Not all of the Knights are in the Citadel," Bladewing pointed out. "Knights Drift and Wing have not been seen since Masters Dai Atlas and Axe fell."

"Knights Drift and Wing have had their own issues to deal with," Shogun replied smoothly. "They will be summoned to the Citadel for the vote."

"No one knows where they are," Lightstrike snarled.

"I know where they are, and I know one other who does as well." Shogun's optics went briefly out of focus as he summoned Thorn to the chamber.

"Then it is agreed, four to one," the fifth and oldest of them, Tamerix, spoke with the finality of one used to getting his way. Mostly because he only spoke when he knew the inevitable results.

There was only a moment of tense silence before Thorn appeared, his frame taunt and wings folded tightly against his back. "You summoned me, Masters?"

"Master Shogun has suggested that the decision be put to a vote of all living Knights." Bladewing turned her emerald gaze on the black jet. "Knights Drift and Wing must be summoned back to the Citadel, and Master Shogun summoned you because he believes you know where their lair is."

The quiver that went through their master blackmailer was indication enough that yes, he knew, and no, he was not about to go. "Begging the master's pardon, but I would not get close enough to pass on the summons."

Shogun rumbled. "And my frame is too large to fit through the caves." A red wing shifted. "Ping me the exact coordinates, and I will send someone else to fetch them."

Thorn nodded in eager agreement, sending the quick databurst in the most encrypted format he knew. After the thrashing Drift had given him over a few words and an interface, he wasn't about to risk the pair's temper again.

Shogun made a humming sound to acknowledge that he'd gotten the databurst, then dismissed Thorn. The red Knight thought for a moment.

"And just who are you going to send?" Lightstrike sneered. "Another Knight?"

"Someone I trust," Shogun shot back, glaring at the other Knight. "But not a Knight, and no one you know. No one you can harass for the coordinates later."

That said, he opened a comm line to one of the seven members of his harem. The femme accepted the request and the databurst, re-encrypted in a format only Shogun himself or his harem could decipher.

* * *

Drift was the first to react to the ping warning of an approaching mecha in the tunnels. He slipped from the berth where he and Wing had spent much of the time snuggling with Nightsun tucked protectively between them.

~I'll see who and see them off,~ Drift promised silently as he sheathed his Great Sword and double-checked his blaster's charge. ~Stay with Nightsun.~

The dark jet nodded, curling protectively around their surviving sparkling. Nightsun pressed himself against his carrier's chestplate, peering out over Wing's arms. The tiny mech had become even more clingy after the death of his sister, latching onto his creators at every opportunity.

~We'll be right here,~ Wing promised, watching his mate stalk toward the door.

With a rumble Drift checked the monitor, then scowled and opened the bond enough to show Wing the blue-green groundframe femme, slightly taller than Wing but lightly armored and unarmed, outside. ~Know her?~

~Red collar,~ Wing pointed out immediately. ~See the glyph? She's one of Shogun's. If she's here then he must have sent her. I'm not sure what her name is.~

~Good enough to open the door for her,~ Drift decided as he keyed the inside lock and slid into the gap. It blocked her way in, but gave her a clear visual on who she was going to speak to. "Yes?"

Soft blue optics scanned over the dark grounder. "Knight Drift?" The femme stepped up to the door, but gave no indication of wishing to enter. "I am Azure. Master Shogun sent me to find you and Knight Wing."

"You have found them. What is the message?" Drift asked, relaxing slightly.

"The Circle is being assembled for a vote on who will become the new leader," Azure replied. "All members of the Circle must take part. You and Wing are being called back to the Citadel to participate." She shifted. "Master Shogun commented that he was going to send another Knight to fetch you, but the other Knight refused. He said you'd know who he meant."

A vicious smile crossed Drift's features. "Nice to know he remembered his lesson about being here."

~Love, we have to return to the Citadel, to vote on the next leader. Even if it wasn't an order, we _need_ to support Shogun in this.~

~ _Not_ leaving Nightsun, not even with Governess,~ Wing informed his mate firmly. ~If we have to go to the Citadel, we're bringing Nightsun with us.~ The dark jet peeked around the doorframe of their berthroom, holding their sparkling close.

~Shogun promised he would be safe,~ Drift reminded his mate. ~We'll take him with us.~ He focused back on Azure. "We will be there within a joor."

Azure nodded, bowing respectfully before turning and making her way back out of the tunnels.

Wing emerged from the berthroom, walking over to join his mate. Nightsun clung to his carrier's armor.

"Walk there?" Drift suggested, decidedly not keen on the idea of being flown.

The dark jet nodded, shifting Nightsun in his arms. "It's a nice orn for a walk," he agreed. One wing extended to touch Drift's arm, then folded to his back again. And it would give him a chance to gather his nerves before reentering the Citadel.

Drift leaned close and kissed him softly, his hand moving to rub both Wing joints. "Then let's put together some supplies for Nightsun and go. You can fly him back as soon as the voting is done."

* * *

The Citadel of Shadows loomed ahead of the pair, Knights visible moving about here and there. Wing's wings shifted against his back, the only outward sign of nervousness. Nightsun whined softly, trying to burrow deeper into his carrier's chassis.

~Here we go,~ Wing murmured to Drift.

~Yes,~ Drift slid an arm around Wing's waist and moved a little closer. The tension in the entire compound was palpable. No matter who a Knight backed, there was a strong possibly that if your choice didn't take over, you were effectively dead.

Wing pressed his shoulder against his mate's, the faint trembling of his frame clearly felt where their armor touched. For a moment the dark jet stayed where he was, then, slowly, he resumed their walk toward the Citadel.

Apparently their arrival had been watched for. As they approached, there was movement by the gates as a deep purple and silver Knight stepped forward, the hilt of her Great Sword shining silver over her helm.

"Snapshot," Drift greeted her, grateful to have a relatively friendly face to explain the details.

She motioned them to follow her. "Five of the seven masters are standing for the position of Leader of the Circle of Shadow. Masters Tamerix, Shogun, Lightstrike, Marwir and Bladewing." She listed them off in order of seniority, carefully guarding who, if any, she favored. She gave a hard look at Wing and the very young black sparkling clinging to him. "I heard Dai Atlas killed your sparkling."

"He killed our older sparkling." There was ice in Wing's tone, the dark jet returning the hard look. "Nightsun was still at our home when Starcrossed was killed."

She nodded and turned her attention to where they were going. "All five agreed to put who will lead us to a vote among all Knights. The choices are only those five masters."

Wing relaxed ever so slightly, following the femme Knight. He stayed close to Drift, though. In his arms, Nightsun peered at their surroundings, peeking over Wing's shoulder to take in every detail that he could see. Other Knights, heading in the same direction Snapshot was leading them, gave the sparkling curious looks.

"I'm surprised Lightstrike is still in contention," Wing commented. What he knew of the master Knight flowed through the bond to Drift, and none of it was any good.

"All the masters are, unless they remove themselves," she shrugged. "That's what Nightstrike and Angel did."

"And Lightstrike is determined to take the position," Wing murmured. He looked down the corridor, spotting the doors of the Circle's main meeting chamber. 

More Knights were starting to fill the corridor. Wing eased closer to Drift, watching the others warily as they took note of the sparkling he carried. Nightsun blinked at them over Wing's arms. Drift did his absolute best impersonation of Megatron ready to kill anything within reach ... which wasn't that far from the truth.

~I see Thorn,~ Wing murmured, his wings loosening from their strut-creakingly tight tuck as the other Knights shied away from Drift, creating a pocket of open space around them.

They both saw the moment Thorn realized that part of the inky blackness that was Wing had tiny purple optics, his surprise, then comprehension as he made the same connections Shogun had.

Nightsun blinked in the direction of the other black jet, while Wing kept a wary optic on his former lover and Drift glared painful death upon him. 

Thorn quickly looked away and dipped his wings in a mixture of submission and offer of sympathy for their loss, then fluttered slightly in offered congratulations.

~I think he's learned well,~ Drift didn't hide the smug satisfaction that the older Knight still feared him after half a century.

The Knights filed into the meeting hall, taking their places. In the center of the chamber were the five masters who were vying for the position as leader of the Circle of Shadows. Noticeably absent were the two mecha who normally ruled this room. It made it both lighter and heavier for Wing knowing his creators were gone, even if they had stepped past the line where he cared for them any more.

Lightstrike was a large white mech with black trim, who probably would have been a handsome mech if it wasn't for the aura of insanity and the mad light in blue optics. His votes would come from those too afraid of him to make any stand, not that there were many, and the couple insane enough to like him.

Marwir, her deep purples and blacks having long been used as a connection to both Dai Atlas and Axe, stood nearly opposite him, making a quiet display of her opposition. Despite the connection, and her definite insanity, she was among the most stable of the masters.

Next to her stood the tall red form of Shogun, who was keeping a cautious optic on his near polar opposite. Most knew many would vote for him simply because he was the most predictable of the contenders. It was a rare trait for a Knight who lasted as long as Shogun had.

Bladewing with her several shades of blue, trimmed with purple and gray, her face impassive, stood next to Marwir. Her green optics flicking between the other mecha, judging and gauging. 

None of them were very concerned over Tamerix. The oldest of the Knights had a valid claim, but not the political backing among the Circle to stand much of a chance.

Wing settled into his place, Nightsun on his lap. The sparkling clung to his arm with one hand, the other grasping the edge of the table. Next to them Drift claimed his spot and rested one hand on Nightsun's back.

One of the other Knights, not quite a master himself, stood in the center of the chamber, equally distant from the five masters. He was careful not to look at the five, keeping his attention on the other mecha filling the seats lining the meeting chamber.

Once all the other Knights were in their seats, the gray Knight in the center of the chamber spoke.

"Knights of the Circle of Shadows, before you stand the five candidates for the position of Master of Shadows. They have been unable to decide a course of action amongst themselves, so now it has been decided that the Circle as a whole will cast their vote for who will take the position," Mist announced.

Nightsun was staring with rapt attention at the curved silver crest of Shogun's helm. The red Knight was standing close enough for the spreading crest to come within grabbing range from time to time. Shogun glanced around the group of masters, then started as small fingers seized the closest edge of his helm crest, Nightsun letting out a triumphant giggle as Wing tried to get his sparkling to let go.

Any other Knight would have had the pair of creators in full retreat, but the vorns they had spent under Master Shogun's tutelage made them trust that he wouldn't take undue offence at a sparkling.

Still, Drift tensed until the master smiled slightly and waited for Wing to free his hand before moving his helm and crest out of reach. Only then did Shogun turn to look at what had grabbed him. Bright purple optics met his orange, the sparkling giggling at him. The big red mech chirred a warm greeting, then turned his attention back to the proceedings.

"It has been agreed that each master will hum a tone. Those who vote for them match that tone," Mist explained. "Master Tamerix, as the most senior, if you would begin."

The older green, deep blue and white mech rumbled slightly before settling on a tone. One by one, the other masters joined the building symphony.

"Knights, cast your votes."

A multi-toned harmony began to fill the room as the gathered Knights cast their votes. Mist turned in a slow circle, tallying up the votes.

There were audibly few votes for Lightstrike. The white master's expression was ugly, the look in his optics one most recognized as similar to the look Dai Atlas had sported before rending someone limb from limb. Armor flared on at least two of the other masters and half the audience.

"Fewest votes, Lightstrike," Mist announced, then winced away from the white Knight's enraged snarl.

This time Drift literally grabbed Wing and pulled him out of his chair to put as much distance, and himself, between his family and the fight that was about to happen. He trusted his mate to keep a tight grip on their sparkling for the trip.

"Lightstrike, step down," Marwir rumbled, glaring up at the much larger mech with no fear.

The sound Lightstrike made was an incoherent noise of fury, the look in his optics making it clear that whatever sanity he had left was rapidly slipping away. Wild blue optics flicked from master to master, white armor bristling.

"Here we go," Shogun muttered under his breath. "Lightstrike, control yourself!"

Wing retreated to the very top tier of the chamber, pressing his back against the wall and peering around Drift while Nightsun made himself as small as possible in his carrier's arms, warm and feeling safe surrounded by the plating of his creators. Despite having their attention focused on the masters and the impending fight, both took note of the Knights that made a point of getting between them and the action.

Tamerix stepped back, dropping into a defensive position, though he didn't draw his blades yet.

Marwir stepped up with Shogun, ready to fight.

With a bellow Lightstrike drew both his short swords and lunged at Shogun, his perceived chief rival.

Shogun choose to draw his swords rather than his naginata this time, due to the more confined space. He sidestepped the first strike, parrying the second. Bladewing backed out of the way as the least sane of the masters attacked the two sanest.

Wing made a tiny chirr as he noted the other Knights putting their own frames and armor between the fighting masters and their tiny sparkling.

~It's good to know most still value a sparkling's life,~ Drift murmured, watching as Marwir and Shogun silently coordinated a joint battle. Watching Lightstrike turn on them brought intense flashbacks of Dai Atlas for Drift, and that made his tanks churn and spark ache for the creation bond that had broken far too early.

~It is,~ Wing agreed.

Somehow Shogun and Marwir managed to keep Lightstrike from getting a definitive strike on either of them while gashes and gouges were practically appearing in the white armor. Together, the two drove the bellowing white master backward, against the rim of the central area. The seated Knights discreetly inched backward out of the way. No one wanted to get caught in the swirl of blades that three master-level Knights in a serious fight produced.

With the aid of her powerful turbines, Marwir bolted forward to slice the back of both of Lightstrike's knees while Shogun kept him distracted.

Lightstrike's hoarse bellow sounded more like a rabid mecha beast than a sentient mech. He stumbled, energon running down his legs from severed fuel lines, trying to keep his balance on legs that would no longer support him. The enraged mech turned on Marwir, optics glowing nearly white with utter madness.

Seeing an opportunity, Shogun took it. He dashed forward, slamming his shoulder into Lightstrike, sending the staggering white master back into the wall. Before Lightstrike could get his bearings, pain slashed through his sensor net, following the path of the gleaming sword blade jammed nearly to the hilt through his chest.

"Masterful pin, Shogun," Marwir complemented him, her manner one of honest admiration. "Even Redline should be grateful for the lack of serious damage."

Shogun chuckled. "I've ended up on the wrong side of Redline one too many times; hopefully this will let me off the hook this time." He released the sword hilt, leaving the weapon embedded in the wall, holding Lightstrike transfixed. Stepping back, he sheathed the other sword and returned to his place in the circle.

Mist peeled himself away from the wall now that the fighting was over and eased back into the center of the gathering. He looked around nervously, watching the various Knights ease back to their seats, though the ones who normally sat behind where Lightstrike had been pinned found other spots to be. When the room settled again, he cycled his vocalizer.

"Second vote!" he declared. "Lightstrike is out of the contention. Knights, cast your votes."

The masters once more chose their tone and the Circle joined in. Tamerix was clearly out, and truly had been the first time. While Bladewing had a reasonable amount of support, there was no question that Marwir and Shogun were heavily favored.

"Master Tamerix is out," Mist announced, nodding slightly to the oldest of the masters. He watched the remaining three, but they remained where they were, waiting patiently.

After the third vote, Bladewing was also out. She leaned against the wall by the entrance, content to watch and listen as the votes were cast for the fourth time.

Mist blinked several times as he listened to the two-tone humming. "Masters Marwir and Shogun are tied."

The two masters looked at each other.

"Combat to blackout?" Marwir suggested.

Shogun pondered the idea for a moment, then nodded his acceptance. As one of his swords was pinning Lightstrike to the wall, for this he would be using his naginata.

"Then to the arena," she inclined her helm to him and smoothly walked to the door, expecting the gathering to follow to the more appropriate venue for ritual combat. Despite her undeniable madness, she was decidedly stable as long as one did not break the rules. It had served her well over the vorns, especially in this Circle where madness usually meant instability as well.

Shogun followed, leaving Lightstrike pinned where he was. Someone would pry the white Knight down later, or the red mech would do it himself after everything was done with. The other Knights began flowing after the two, everyone heading for the largest of the arenas.

In the arena, the crowd spread out into the raised, tiered benches along the walls. Wing tugged Drift up to the highest tier, where they had a clear view but would be well out of range of the weapons in use, even the long reach of Shogun's naginata. He wrapped his arms firmly around Nightsun, keeping the sparkling from trying to squirm loose.

Drift sat next to his family, his arms around his mate and sparkling, ready to pull or push them out of the way of any projectile that might come their way. He trusted both the masters in the arena not to target them, but the loss was still far too raw for him to be completely rational about it.

He did take note of those Knights who looked at them and then positioned themselves to be an additional protection to the young life they held. This day was already changing his opinion of a few of his fellow Knights for the better.

Last into the arena was Redline, carrying an energon-coated short sword. "Shogun!" He called out, catching the master's attention before tossing the blade to him in a smooth arc that reminded everyone that their chief medic was also a highly skilled Knight, only a few vorns from being a master himself if he focused on that and not medicine for it.

Shogun neatly caught the blade, absently snapping it sideways to flick off the energon before sheathing it. His gaze immediately returned to Marwir, shifting his grip on his naginata to activate the blade.

At a dozen paces, well outside the naginata's range, Marwir settled her slender wings, the same kind Wing had, and relaxed into a ready posture opposite the giant twice her height and several times her mass.

Mist stepped forward, keeping well clear of the pair. "Masters, you may begin."

Millennia of familiarity had the pair circling each other, judging and gauging not for skill but for weaknesses of the moment. Marwir darted in first, her greater speed and agility, a solid match for Wing's most orns, being her primary advantage against the larger, stronger and more heavily armored Knight. They were well matched in skill. On any given orn one might defeat the other when sparring, though Shogun took more matches than he lost.

The shaft of Shogun's naginata, as much a weapon as the curved energy blade at the other end, lashed out at her, the bigger mech's optics following Marwir's moves. 

She dodged easily, her turbines revving in exhilaration as the dance began. Her goal was as predictable as it was difficult to defend again; get inside his guard, strike and dart off before getting hit herself.

Shogun focused all his attention on Marwir, optics narrow. His weapon was a blur in his hands as he struck out, the end cap of the naginata's shaft just barely nicking against her ankle. It sent her tumbling off balance, though she found her pedes quickly with the help of her turbines and the exceptional natural balance that came with being a stunt frame.

With a rumble that was a mixture of annoyance, approval and excitement she made a fast rush past him, twisting around and doubling in on herself to slash at his inner thighs as she passed between his pedes.

Her blades struck sparks against armor, leaving gleaming gouges in the metal that began to ooze energon. Shogun whipped around on one heel, the blade of his weapon arcing around, managing to take off one of her shoulder pinions but missing a solid hit. The red giant followed her movement, striking out a second time but missed as she got out of range.

A slightly manic grin spread across her features at the battle against an equal and having so much at stake, but Shogun wasn't one to be fooled into thinking that look meant she was at all out of control.

She rushed back in, her target cutting off the reinforced end of his naginata.

Shogun's optics narrowed to glowing orange slits. He lashed out with the weapon's shaft rather than pulling it away. If he connected the force of the blow would send her right across the arena.

The roar of turbines gave her enough lift to dodge the strike and connect with her own. One blade slashed down into the swing of the naginata, using it's momentum to aid her in slicing the reinforced tip off.

Shogun shifted his grip to compensate for the change in weight, whipping the now lighter weapon in a blinding arc, the glowing energy blade hooking out at the smaller femme. The curved tip caught a seam of Marwir's leg armor and he pulled, yanking the smaller Knight off balance. She nearly landed on her aft, only the roar of turbines powering to full saved her as she twisted to pull herself free.

As quickly as he could, Shogun brought the weapon down, hoping to slam Marwir into the floor before she got loose. Once the blade came loose, he brought it down in a blinding arc, aiming for the smaller femme's shoulder. The tip caught her, cutting deep into armor and reducing the arm's effectiveness, but not fully disabling it.

Shogun spun to follow the femme jet's moves, wings pulling close to his back. Tracking on her, he struck out again, the blade coming up in a swift slash. She darted out of the way, then bolted back in to slash deep gouges into his left leg.

Energon flowed over red armor, spattering onto the floor. Shogun hissed but otherwise didn't react, bringing the shaft of his weapon down squarely across her back. It slammed her into the ground, cracking armor and rattling circuits.

Marwir grunted, her engines powering her out of range the moment there was no longer pressure holding her down.

The glowing blade just missed her as she darted away. Shogun bared his dental plates briefly, his own turbines roaring, going after the smaller femme, poised to strike as soon as he saw an opening. 

Her speed didn't give much. She slashed and darted, leaving oozing marks along his legs and arms, slicing into cables and wires. Air huffed softly from Shogun's vents. He was ignoring the sting of his injuries; it would take a lot more than that to take him down, though as she'd proven more than once, the tactic could work on him effectively.

Narrow orange optics watched Marwir, waiting for just the right moment. Reversing his weapon as he lashed out, he struck with the shaft of his naginata rather than the blade. Redline would rip him a new exhaust vent if he actually cut Marwir in half.

She went down with a heavy grunt, briefly stunned.

Shogun was on her in an instant, the blade of his naginata striking one of her shoulder nacelles, disabling it. Whipping the weapon around, the red giant cracked her right across the helm with the truncated end of the weapon's shaft, leaving an impressive dent. Her systems quickly quieted as awareness fled.

The red mech stood over Marwir for a long moment, then took a step back, deactivating the naginata's blade. Mist, taking the weapon's deactivation as a signal, came forward to check on the femme jet.

"Master Marwir has been knocked unconscious," Mist reported. "Master Shogun is the victor!"

There was a distinct wave of relief as their new leadership was settled on, deepened by _who_ it was.

~For once, things have gone our way,~ Drift murmured, still a bit in shock that it had gone so smoothly.

Redline stalked forward to collect Marwir. "At least you refrained from doing worse damage," he growled at the red mech as he lifted the femme off the floor.

"After getting chewed out by you as many times as I have, I have gotten the message," Shogun rumbled back with an amused snort.


	18. Epilogue

Two orns after the transfer of leadership and after some of the political chaos had settled, Wing approached Shogun about laying Starcrossed to rest in the crypt of the Knights. The big red mech had thought about it for a moment, then agreed, promising to have a crypt ready for the sparkling by the next orn.

The next orn a group gathered at the Citadel's gates; Wing carrying Nightsun, Drift carrying Starcrossed's small frame, and Governess. The femme was slightly uneasy; she had watched sparklings for many couples and the occasional trine, but Wing and Drift had been the first Knights she had ever dealt with, and she had never been inside the Citadel itself. It was not a place civilians like her went if they valued their frames.

That she had failed to protect their sparkling to such an extent made her all the more uneasy. It didn't matter that she hadn't been on duty because she was in the hospital for a cracked wing strut. She should have been there, her contract was clear on that count, and she wasn't. Because of that her charge was gray.

The Citadel's gates opened silently, catching the group's attention as Shogun emerged, Redline not far behind. The big mech's orange optics swept over the group, then he inclined his helm, tilting it toward the open gates. "Please follow me."

The usually bustling Citadel was almost silent along the route they took, the other Knights hanging back. Optics flickered to the damaged and grayed frame in Drift's arms, then the other Knights would retreat. Shogun ignored the watchers, while Wing kept a careful optic on them, his grip on Nightsun tightening slightly.

Shogun led them into the heart of the Citadel, turning down a previously unnoticed corridor that led deeper under the Knight stronghold. This corridor led down to the Knights' crypt, a chamber cut directly into the rock under the Citadel's center. The walls were cut perfectly smooth, almost polished, studded with reflective minerals and natural crystals. One wall bore carved into it the names of all those Knights who had fallen and whose frames had been smelted or stripped for parts, Dai Atlas and Axe being among the former. Along the other walls, niches had been cut into the rock for frames to be placed inside, then each niche sealed with a plate bearing the name and rank of the occupant. The nearer wall bore a freshly-cut niche, much smaller than the others, the sealing plate leaning against the wall, ready to be set into place.

It was only now that things seemed to hit Drift, and it crashed into him with the force of a gestalt. Vents hitched and his sturdy frame swayed as he gripped the crushed frame of his sparkling. He closed his side of his bonds on pure reflex as to not distract his mate or upset their surviving sparkling. Loss, grief, pain all meant danger to him. His mate had to be able to fight. Their sparkling must be silent to hide. He had to keep it in.

Wing sidled closer to Drift, stretching out a wing to touch his mate's armor gently. He was choking back a keen of his own, shifting to hold Nightsun closer, the small jetling whimpering slightly as he reacted to his carrier's sadness.

Shogun led them over to the fresh niche, standing against the wall next to it. Compassionate orange eyes regarded Drift. The red Knight tilted his helm slightly to the side. "When you can bring yourself to do so, you may lay her frame there," he rumbled softly.

With Wing's touch as his leader's calm voice, Drift allowed the bond with Wing to crack open. The swirl of loss was intense, everything that he'd held back and suppressed to see to Wing's needs exploded across his processors. It was a familiar sensation, something he'd known was coming. He even, dimly, knew the ritual Knights used to inter one of their own from when his white Wing's frame had been laid to rest in a similar chamber.

That chamber was so very different though. Wing's designation was the first full Knight to be placed in it. Before him only two Initiates had been lost. That chamber felt like an Autobot one. Not for the respect to the departed, but to how few had been lost outside of war. This one ... this one was without question what a Decepticon one would look like if they respected their departed. Without war, with no reason to die, half a dozen Knights and nearly a score of Initiates were here.

Starcrossed would be the first, and if he could help it, the last sub-adult to have their frame laid here.

Wing leaned in to touch his forehelm lightly to Drift's, gold optics dimming slightly. His own pain and loss for their sparkling merged with Drift's, wringing a tiny keen from the dark jet's vocalizer. The sound echoed off the smooth, glittering walls and the ceiling.

Governess shifted slightly, watching the pair. Her grief was just as deep as theirs, mixed with the shame of not having protected their offspring. She choked back her own soft sound of grief.

Shogun watched in silence, waiting patiently. His grief was for a young life lost before it could reach its full potential. Sparklings were precious. This little one should have been allowed to grow and live a full existence.

No one cared how long they all stood there until Drift gathered himself and set the frame his own had created into the small crypt and stepped away.

Wing pressed against Drift as the dark grounder stepped back, shifting to wrap one arm around his mate, Nightsun held between them. A soft keen escaped the dark jet.

Shogun's optics dimmed slightly as he began to recite a prayer to Primus, for the departed spark. It was something he was very familiar with. Overseeing funerals and interments was one of the Order Master's duties, but the job had fallen to him since Dai Atlas had never cared and Axe simply couldn't be bothered. His voice, formal and sonorous, echoed through the chamber.

Once he had finished the prayer, Shogun bent to pick up the sealing plate. Holding it, he looked over the group, waiting to see if they had anything they wished to say before the small crypt was sealed.

Drift looked like he was going to, but couldn't make himself. Only a whisper of the wish that she have another chance to see the stars leaked across the bond along with a dark bitterness that he couldn't find it in himself to truly believe in Primus. Not as a caring entity.

Slowly the grounder shook his helm.

"Rest in peace with Primus, little one," Governess whispered.

The broken keen that Wing let out needed no translation or words.

In his arms Nightsun stirred, pulling out one of the plush toys that Starcrossed had often carried around their home with her. He held it up to Shogun, indicating that he wanted it to be placed with his sister. The red Knight nodded, carefully taking the (to him) tiny item and gently placing it in the crypt. 

Redline murmured something in a dialect too old for the others to recognize, his cadence and tone one of a ritual.

When they all fell to silence, Shogun shifted the sealing plate to one hand as he carefully spread sealant around the edge of the small crypt, then set the plate in place, pressing it into the sealant and holding it there for a few nanokliks, until it was firmly set.

Of all the internments he'd overseen, all the designations on the wall he had carved so carefully no matter his feelings towards the mecha they represented, this was one of the larger gatherings of those who honestly cared for the departed and some part of him grieved for that truth. As small a cadre as the Knights of Shadow were, they should _all_ grieve the loss of one of their own.

Shogun closed his optics, centering himself briefly before beginning the ritual farewell for a departed spark. Wing trembled, his optics dimming to a dull glow as he listened.

The last word of the ritual farewell trailed into silence. Shogun stepped back, bowing deeply to the new crypt to show his respect for the deactivated youngling and the spark now returned to Primus.

They all walked in silence to the high tower suite that the senior Knight had called home for so long and had yet to abandon for the larger, more plush quarters of his predecessor. To the table full of high grade in the center of the room that Shogun provided they each added at least one cube in thanks for the bounty that had been provided for their grief. Drift added three, and Wing another half dozen, both in thanks, for it was technically their duty to provide the high grade.

There was one other mecha already present in the senior Knight's quarters, a grounder who just reached the red mech's shoulder in height, colored all shades of gray from the deepest charcoal to the palest smoke, red collar standing out vividly against his armor. Green optics met orange, then the gray mech made himself scarce.

Chairs and couches made for different frame sizes had been arranged in a loose circle around the table in the center of the room. Shogun waited until all of the others were seated before finding a place himself.

Drift was the first to claim a cube, downing half of it without even checking what kind it was.

"Sixty-three vorns, five metacycles and two hundred orns Starcrossed knew the freedom of her frame," he spoke, part ritual, part memories of a long-ago funeral and part simply what he needed to say. "She had her wings for less than a vorn, and only flown in the open sky once."

"She loved to fly," Wing whispered. "With me as often as I could take her, and then on her own as long as her fuel lasted. Even when she was out of fuel she didn't want to land." He choked back another keen, his voice giving out on him.

"A bright young life, sparked a true flier, and an existence ended far too soon," Shogun murmured. "She will be deeply missed by those who knew her."

"She was a bright spark who loved exploring and pushing boundaries," Redline spoke for the first time, his voice deep with grief. "She wanted to _live_ enough to claim a spot next to Drift's spark despite all the odds against it."

"She was sweet, for all she was endlessly escaping," Governess added. "Not a spark of malice in her."

"She was there when I climbed out of carrier's frame, and she cleaned off the goo I was covered in," Nightsun piped up from Wing's arms. Tiny wing struts twitched against Wing's arm and chestplate. "She promised we would fly together and drive our creators crazy together."

"We were constantly changing the locks on everything in our home." Wing picked up a cube, keeping it carefully out of reach of the small hands trying to grab it. "She could get into or out of just about everything. Even the front door no matter how well-locked it was."

"We really thought the spark scanner would keep her in for an least a metacycle," Drift said with a soft sigh as the jet high grade hit his systems with a familiar and welcomed intensity. "Turns out she could mimic mine enough to fool the scanner."

"And she somehow managed to get past the traps we set to keep her from getting out of the tunnels," Wing added with a heavy ex-vent, taking a sip of his own cube. "We were glad to have found Governess; she's fast enough in the air to catch Starcrossed when she got out into the city cavern." He looked over at the older femme.

"She would have been a terror had she been raised in the Citadel," Shogun observed, shifting his cube from one hand to the other. "I can imagine how much more trouble she would have gotten into here."

"She'd promised to show me how to get past the door and the traps," Nightsun chirped, trying to grab his carrier's cube and giving a frustrated chirr when Wing held it out of his reach.

Drift reached into his subspace and pulled out a sweetened sparkling cube, a real treat for how rarely it could be procured without drawing notice.

Nightsun perked up with a chirp, trying to leap out of Wing's arms to get at it. He got those treats so rarely, and did his best to make them last when he did. Wing loosened his hold, allowing the tiny sparkling to crawl over into his sire's lap, grasping the cube with both hands. 

Shogun made a very soft sound of amusement as he watched Nightsun. It was good to see that his creators were not so consumed with the grief of losing their first creation that this one had been left to languish. He could see though their pain that they still adored their surviving creation and were content to allow his joy and existence to brighten their own.

Drift actually let out a soft sound of contentment when Nightsun settled. Though it wasn't the spark he had supported directly, nor did the sparkling look much like him, his spark had given much of the energy that had become Nightsun. It was a resonance that soothed the ache a bit.

"She had all my fire and defiance, with none of my bitterness," Drift murmured, watching his surviving creation slowly enjoy his cube. "Her spark was mine, but her wit was all Wing."

"Starcrossed was an escape artist," Wing added, his voice soft. "She had us both wrapped around her little finger and she was well aware of it. We couldn't deny her anything. One dose of that wide-opticked look and both of us would cave."

"About time someone gave you a dose of your own tactic," Drift chuckled, working on his energon a bit more sedately, though there was no doubt he was aiming to get too overcharged to drive, much less walk. "She was going to be a real beauty, the cause of more fights than pride. She'd have ruled the city."

Wing smiled at his mate. "She would have," the dark jet agreed. "We would have been warning half the Citadel away from her before long, too."

"Not that she would have cared if _we_ approved of her mate if she wanted him," Drift smiled at the thought, though it was hidden behind his cube. "She had that in common with both of us too."

Shogun chuckled softly. "It would have been funny watching the younger Knights making fools of themselves to try and impress her."

"So says the one who wouldn't have been putting them back together afterward," Redline retorted.

Wing nodded, stretching out a wing to touch his mate, who leaned into the contact, shifting until their plating touched from shoulder to pede. "She would have argued with us, then ignored us." Shoulder pinions drooped, gold optics dimming. "I wish we could have seen that."

"It would have been something to see, as stressful as it would have been," Drift agreed. "Whoever she chose, they would have adored her."

"I would have been the one trying to get their processors _off_ the pretty femme and back onto their chores," Shogun pointed out with a snort. Orange optics turned to Drift. "I pity the fool who would dare treat one of your offspring otherwise."

Wing had to chuckle at that.

"The pretty femme showing off flagrantly and delighting in distracting everyone, then laughing when she was chassed off, daring anyone to catch her," Drift actually grinned at Shogun.

"She was so playful," Governess agreed. "She would have enjoyed the chase to no end."

Shogun chuckled. "She would certainly have made life interesting."

"Playful and full of mischief," Wing agreed, watching his mate carefully as Drift reached for a second jet-grade cube. There was a memory there, dim and hazy, but it was enough to make the black jet worry. He just wasn't sure about what.

"She'd have been the fastest thing this city has ever seen," Drift rumbled. "She was already hard to catch."

"Very difficult," Governess agreed, also turning a worried optic on Drift. Back on Cybertron, she'd known more than one carrier who drank himself to deactivation within the first few orns after a loss. Drift had never seemed the type to give up like that, but much more jet grade and he'd need Redline's attention to stop his systems from shutting down.

"Hard to catch even for me," Wing agreed. He eyed Drift for a moment, then reached over, catching his mate's arm. "Are you sure you should be drinking that high grade?" he asked, shaking the dark grounder to get his attention. The fuzzy memory was making him antsy, so was the way Redline keep _looking_ at his mate.

Shogun tilted his helm slightly, looking at Drift. "He's not going to be able to drive or walk before long."

The grounder muttered something unintelligible and tried to focus on the pile to pick out the shade that was his.

Without a sound Redline picked a grounder high grade up and offered it. When Drift accepted the cube and mixed it with the third of the jet high grade left in his second cube, the medic quietly began to shift the grounder cubes to where Drift seemed to reach when he went for a cube.

"We did focus a lot on _needing_ her to be fast. A lot," Drift said quietly, swirling the mixed high grade in his cube until the color settled, then took a long swig.

Wing's nacelle pinions drooped. "We needed her to be fast, to outrun any danger," he murmured. "But she was too young, and not fast enough." Gold optics closed, the dark jet fighting back a keen.

Drift let his helm shift sideways to rest on Wing's nacelle. "Much too young. She didn't recognize the danger fast enough," Drift's tone was pure self-recrimination. "I didn't act fast enough. I had so much time to. I never _truly_ believed he'd hurt her that badly."

This time the keen did escape, Wing turning to press his forehelm against Drift's. Nightsun looked up from his cube, pressing himself against his sire's chestplate, chirring uneasily.

"It won't happen again," Shogun told them. "I won't _let_ it." Orange optics flashed.

Drift wrapped one arm around Wing and the other cradled Nightsun close. Words from long ago crept up in his processors. "In giving her life, others may grow up without fear."

Wing whimpered softly. "But why _her_?" 

Nightsun reached out to pat his carrier's chestplate. The black jet stirred, dulled gold optics turning to their young sparkling. Slowly sitting up, Wing did his best to compose himself, taking a gulp of his high grade.

"Because it was her, or her brother," Drift murmured a truth too cruel for most to contemplate.

"I would say you were fortunate it was only one and not both," Shogun pointed out quietly, shifting a wing slightly. "It could easily have been."

Wing's armor spiked at that. He clung more tightly to Drift and Nightsun. His mate merely growled, his entire frame vibrating with the helpless rage.

"Never again," Drift hissed. He couldn't take it again. "I'll never hesitate again."

"I won't _let_ it happen again," Shogun rumbled, his gaze meeting Drift's with the intensity of a laser beam, letting the dark grounder know he was serious. "Dai Atlas is dead. I am Order Master now. I won't let anyone harm another sparkling. Never again."

Slowly Drift nodded. "We trust you," he said quietly with a meaningful look down at the young sparkling they had brought out of hiding on the basis of that trust.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Drift pulled Wing into their berthroom, arousal hot and bright in his field and their bond as the black jet was kissed soundly.

Wing squeaked in surprise, wings flaring out, then slowly relaxing. He was nervous, leaving Nightsun alone in their sparkling's own room for the first time since the deactivation of their older sparkling. The dark jet _knew_ that Nightsun's room, positioned at the back of their den, was secure; paranoia had ensured that Wing had scanned and inspected the room very closely. But knowing that didn't make the nerves go away.

As ever, though, Wing was unable to resist his mate, the dark grounder's arousal feeding Wing's own. Slowly, the dark jet's tense body relaxed, almost melting against Drift's dark armor. He began to purr as he returned the kiss, bringing up his own hands to return the caresses.

~That's better,~ Drift murmured as their glossa tangled, stroking and thrusting in a passionate and familiar dance. ~I've missed having my _mate_.~

Wing made a soft hum, apology flowing through the bond. ~Sorry, my love. I missed this too, so badly.~ He rubbed his frame against Drift's, wings fluttering out and wiggling.

~I know,~ a soothing acceptance was offered as Drift reached for the wings, stroking and pinching. The past metacycle had been hard on them both. Though Wing had taken the longest to accept that it was over and they were safe, all three of them had _needed_ the contact physical and field reassurance of the others for some time. Nightsun's presence in one of their arms had become so normal that no one was surprised to see little purple optics staring out from one of their chests anymore. Shogun's warning that anyone to even look at the sparkling in a way Nightsun's creators didn't like would get the pounding of their existence had gone some way toward helping as well. ~It's time to reclaim our _lives_.~

Wing purred at the touches, spreading his wings to their full span and pressing them into Drift's hands. Letting out a soft mew of pure need, the dark jet let an image of their lush, comfortable berth slip through the bond, dipping his helm to nip and nuzzle at Drift's throat.

A deep rumble escaped Drift at the image and he didn't hesitate to pull his mate towards it, pushing him down into a tangle of limbs, moans, mews and rubbing armor. With a solid image of Wing's legs wrapped around him as Drift pounded into that wonderful valve sent to his mate, Drift's spike nearly exploded out of him the moment the cover was slid out of the way.

Wing's response was part purr, part laugh. He wrapped both legs around Drift, ankles hook together behind the dark grounder, valve cover opening so quickly it practically dematerialized. Lubricant was already leaking out just from the anticipation.

~All yours,~ Wing purred, wriggling sensually against his mate's frame. ~Take me.~

A deep rumble of desire vibrated both their frames as Drift thrust his hips forward, sheathing himself fully in a single motion. He stilled there to enjoy the sensation of being buried inside his mate once more, the ripple of the valve and slick heat surrounding him.

Wing let out a deep moan, leaning back his helm and baring his throat to his mate's lips and denta. His valve calipers rippled along Drift's spike as the dark jet pressed into the penetration, slipping his fingers into a seam under Drift's canopy and stroking his fingertips along the circuitry underneath.

~Oh, babe...~ Drift moaned, pleasure zipping across his circuits. With a deepening growl he drew his hips back and slammed forward, beginning a punishing pace intending to bring them both to a blissful overload as rapidly as possible.

Wing's hips moved into each thrust, matching Drift's pace. Nimble fingers worked deeper into the circuitry, trailing feather-light over sensor nodes and wiring. The dark-armored legs wrapped around Drift's waist shifted slightly as Wing adjusted his position, changing the angle a hair and moaning as Drift's spike rubbed over another set of sensors. 

The charge was building fast, the pleasure roaring across their circuits as their hips clashed and rubbed, each motion bring another wave of pleasure to the pair as they willfully lost themselves in the physical sensation.

Wing's optics flared nearly white, blind with ecstasy. He let out soft moans and mews at each thrust, charge beginning to flicker under fluffed armor plates. Leaning forward, his nipped at his mate's jaw and cheek plating, the fingers of one hand scraping over Drift's cockpit on their way to his spaulder.

The first brush of fingers against his sensitive ground sensors caused Drift to bellow, his back arching upwards as cables tensed, driving his hips flush with Wing's and grinding them together as hot, thick transfluid exploded into Wing's valve, washing over the sensor nodes.

The charge that jumped between their frames and the transfluid filling his valve triggered Wing's overload, his voice a keening shriek as he clung to his mate's frame. His calipers clamped down on Drift's spike, rippling against it in a complex pattern, milking it of every last drop.

It took a good breem for the dark jet to come down from that high, relaxing back onto the berth, purring and trilling in utter contentment with his lax and happy mate sprawled on top of him and still deep inside him.

"Been too long," Drift slurred with a lazy nuzzle.

"It has been," Wing agreed, optics dimly lit and palms slowly stroking his mate's armor. He returned the nuzzle, letting out a soft, content chirp.

"Any inclination to move back in?" Drift murmured, his field relaxed and gently woven with Wing's, expressing how happy the grounder was in the moment.

"Not particularly," Wing murmured. "I like it out here... No nosy neighbors, all the privacy we want..." His field meshed with Drift's, expressing the dark jet's utter contentment.

"Space to expand...." Drift suggested as much as asked, uncertainty mixed with willingness in his field.

Golden optics widened as Wing stared at his mate for a moment, then purred softly. "Room to keep our family close until we're _sure_ they're ready to go off on their own."

"Yes, though with more socialization that she got," Drift said firmly. "Both Knights and commoners."

"Those we allow near them." Wing's armor bristled at the thought of Thorn going anywhere near their little ones. Cautious willingness seeped through the bond. Wing did want more sparklings, though he would wait until Nightsun was a little older this time. He _wanted_ to go flying under the moonlight with several little jets following, teaching them to fly where there were no limits.

"Of course," Drift kissed him soundly. "But _next_ time, we get permission _first_. No more hiding. We may _live_ out here, but we don't _hide_ out here."

"Shogun changed that rule," Wing murmured. "We can kindle as we please as long as we report which of us is carrying. For schedule changes and the like. There are probably going to be a few sparklings running around the Citadel eventually."

Drift hummed. "Here's hoping none of the really whacked out Knights have them." He leaned in for a kiss. "Then when you are ready, we can try again."

Wing chirred into the kiss. "When Nightsun is a little older. Then we can try again. Just have to have Redline remove the inhibitors he installed after Nightsun separated. And put up with the rant he's going to give us in the process."

"I don't know," Drift grinned playfully and kissed his mate as his hips began to rock softly. "I think he likes sparklings. He just hated the danger they were in."

Wing laughed, hips rolling into the thrusts. "Redline's going to complain about us having a whole flock before Nightsun's fully grown. He just likes to have something to grumble about."

"True enough," he chuckled before claiming a kiss. ~Want your spark,~ he rumbled, his chest plates unlocking, ready to part.

Black armor unlocked and parted, revealing the orange orb of Wing's spark pressed against the side of its casing, clearly demanding to be released. ~You have it, my love,~ Wing purred.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Fandom** : Transformers G1 Mirrorverse  
>  **Author** : gatekat, ultrarodimus on LJ  
>  **Pairing** : Dark!Wing/Normal!Drift, Axe/Dai Atlas  
>  **Rating** : NC-17 mech/mech, mech/femme  
>  **Codes** : Slash, Het, Mirrorverse AU, Sticky, Prostitution, Spark, Bonding, Mechpreg, Non-Con, Sparklings, Death  
>  **Disclaimer** : The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
>  **Notes** : Wing bought Drift _Fire Bib_ <http://www.natalie526.deviantart.com/art/Rhinestone-Fire-Bib-182662257>  
>  Drift bought Wing _Mistress of the Sanguine_ <http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/06/9c/0b/069c0be891708b3c6c88d2b7a2080fcb.jpg> by <http://www.delectable-decadence.deviantart.com>
> 
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;
> 
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter


End file.
